
Class 
Book 



COMES ONE 
WITH A SONG 



BY / 

FRANK L. STANTON 
Author of " Songs of the Soil " 



INDIANAPOLIS AND KANSAS CITY 

THE BOWEN MERRILL CO. 

^ 1899 



1U 



G849 






Copyright, 1898 

by 

Tne Bowen-Merrill Company. 



OCT 1 ^. 1«98, :) 




^"■' cosy 

'ess. ■ 



TO 

MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER 

LEONA AND MARCELLE 



CONTENTS 

Comes One With a Song Proe7n 

One Country I 

The Woodland Thrush 3 

The Warning 5 

October 7 

Time's Up 10 

The Graveyard Rabbit I2 

A Song of Harvest 14 

In Evidence 16 

The Love Gage 17 

With My Pipe 18 

So Many ! " 21 

Little Bit of a Fellow 22 

The Story of the Wood 23 

The Rapier 27 

When Jennie Rode to Mill With Me 28 

Chuck Will's Widow 30 

A Little Thankful Song 32 

Clarisse 34 

Light On the Hills 35 

Linnie's Hair 37 

Motherhood 39 

His Grandmother's Way 40 

Beneath the Mistletoe 42 

When the Little Boy Ran Away 43 



CONTENTS 

The Ships At Sea 46 

At the Twilight Gate 48 

Eugene Field 54 

A Boj's View of It 55 

With Old-Time Friends 57 

A Song of Love 60 

A Memory of Him 61 

The Faces He Loved to the Last 63 

In Love's Tender Keeping 65 

His Mother's Kiss 66 

Our Poetry Farm 67 

A Song of Seasons 70 

A Kilted Genius 71 

At the Turn of the Road 73 

The Runaway Toys 74 

Retribution 76 

The Christmasse Children 77 

Annetta Jones — Her Book 79 

Love's Way 81 

" The Grenadiers " 82 

From the Shadow 84 

The Love Lights of Home 88 

Summer's Farewell 90 

Indian Summer Day 91 

A Holiday Note 93 

The Old Rail Fence 94 

A Song in June 97 

The Reapers 99 

Weary for Her 100 

A Song of Thanks 102 

The Singer Crowned 103 



CONTENTS 



The Sky for You 105 

Going Home to Mary 106 

A Providential Christmas 108 

A Rainy Day 115 

Taking the Babj-'s Picture 117 

A Happy Fellow 121 

This World 123 

The Christmas Fiddle 124 

Ten Acres for Him 127 

The Little One 129 

A Know-Nothing Fellow 131 

How I Spoke the Word 133 

The Famous Mulligan Ball 136 

Sweet Little Woman of Mine 139 

According to John 140 

Why the Wedding Waits 141 

Thirty Years After 143 

The Flag of Our Country 146 

The Fight 147 

The Warship Dixie 148 

The Billville Debate 150 



The Veterans 



153 



A Southern Volunteer 155 

Old "Bob White" 157 

Pray in' for Rain 158 

The Rattlesnake's Song 160 

"Little Tin Ho'n" 162 

A Lullabj' 164 

Miss Nancy 165 

The Thrush Song 166 

Sweet, My Honey 167 

xiii 



CONTENTS 

A Summer Song i68 

The Lost Birds 170 

Rabbit Song 172 

Mister Blizzara""' ^-^ 173 

His Dream- Money 175 

A Plantation Ditty 176 

A Doubter in the Fold 177 

Miss Lucy's Way 178 

Morning Song 180 

Young Miss 181 

Miss Liza 183 

The Children 184 

At Devil's Lake 186 

A Summer Lyric 188 

Tiger Lilies 190 

Morning Fires for Mary 191 

The Veteran's Dream 192 

In Thy New Year 194 

With April Violets 196 

His " Favor " 198 

A Winter Night 199 



XIV 



In ihe strife and the tumult that sweeps us along 

Comes one with a song. 
In the storm of the nations — the wrath for tlie wrong, 

Comes one with a song, 
And over the rage of the people the skies 
See the light of a lovelier morning arise ; — 
There are prayers on Love's lips, and the light 's in Love's eyes 

Comes one with a song. 

In the rude clamor and crush of the throng 

Comes one with a song. 
The winds have foretold him ; rills rippled along 

Of one with a song. 
And the sword 's in the scabbard, and soft as the dew 
On the lips of the lilies — God's white thoughts of you — 
Love's dear arms enfold you; light breaks from the blue! — 

Comes one with a song. ^ 



ONE COUNTRY 

I 

AFTER ALL, 
One country, brethren ! We must rise or fall 
With the Supreme Republic. We must be 
The makers of her Immortality ; 
Her freedom, fame. 
Her glory or her shame — 
Liegemen to God and fathers of the free ! 

II 

After all- 
Hark! from the heights the clear, strong, clarion call 
And the command imperious: "Stand forth, 
Sons of the south and brothers of the north ! 

Stand forth and be 

As one on soil and sea — 
Your country's honor more than empire's worth! " 

I 



ONE COUNTRY 
III 

After all, 
'Tis Freedom wears the loveliest coronal; 
Her brow is to the morning; in the sod 
She breathes the breath of patriots ; every clod 

Answers her call 

And rises like a wall 
Against the foes of liberty and God ! 



THE WOODLAND THRUSH 

IN the deep woods remote 
A sweeter minstrel dwells 
Than ever piped a morn or twilight note 
In all the song-swept dells. 

It is no voice that soars 

Unwearying to the blue ; 
Transient — elusive — even while Love adores: 

A phantom of the dew! 

A sense of silver bells 

Swayed by light winds ; — a thrill 
Keen as the leaf feels when the spring sap swells 

And sculptures it at will. 

And ere the lips can say 

A song hath been — aware 
Of mystery the soul hath lost its way — 

Doubting and dreaming there, 

3 



THE WOODLAND THRUSH 

As one in shadowed bowers 

Of Sleep may hear a strain 
Which haunts the memory in his waking hours, 

Nor makes its meaning phiin. 

Soft as a ripple's plash 

Against the shore's shelled walls, — 

that the mystic melody would dash 
Down like the waterfalls ! 

Yet all the wood is stirred 

From violet to pine ; 
And I have heard — and yet I have not heard 

A melody divine ! 

Voice of the woodland thrush ! 

Dewdrop of song, that fears 
The rustling of a leaf — a rose's blush, 

And dies when Love appears ; — 

1 lose myself in thee 

As one who, billow-tost 
And drowning, hears strange music in the sea, 
Lulled by the sound and .... lost! 
4 



THE WARNING 

WAS the tree thrilled by the wind ? 
There was never a sky-blown breath. 
So still the day — so ghostly gray, 

It seemed a soul in death. 
Yet through each leaf a tremor ran 
Like the blood in the veins of a man. 

Through each leaf a tremor 

Wild and svv^ift and keen ; 
And the thrilling leaves — the unwilling leaves, 

Seemed over a grave to lean. 
And through the round limbs ever ran 
The thrill of the rope at the throat of a man ! 

And the leaves moaned in the light. 

And the light they did condemn, 
And cried to the tempest and the night 

To darken over them. 
And the sun sank low, and his last beams ran 
To the leaves, as if red with the blood of a man, 

5 



THE WARNING 

And the silence is broken. . . . And hark! 

A shout — a shriek in the glen, — 
A ghostly face in the dark. 

And the sky grows black . . . and then — 
The limbs and the leaves feel the blight and the ban 
Of the blood of a man ! 



OCTOBER 

1 WOULD I had a rhyme wherewith to robe her- 
The fair October! 
But rhyme on rhyme my fancy vainly w^eaves: — 
At hide and seek in her red realm of leaves. 
I can not paint her melancholy, sober — 
The glad October! 

Even glad, 

Though all the world's wan singers call her sad, 
And sorrowful and wise. 
While her complaining eyes 
Droop in a mournful mist! 

But I have seen her cheek, by sunlight kissed, 
Wear the wild peach's bloom, 
The while each wind-blown tress 

Fell from her forehead, gleaming in the gloom 

With unimagined light and loveliness ! 



OCTOBER 

Through dream-enchanted hours 

Of summer, when for weariness the flowers 

Sank from the fierce sun's sight 
With thoughts of star-trysts in the cool twilight, 

And dew-plashed bowers 
Of unseen spirits of the violet night, — 
Far off she felt the red rose at her lips, 
And thrilled the thorn's blood to her finger tips; 
The slow sap tingling through the veiny leaf ; 
The gold grain climbing to the sunny sheaf, — 
The breath and death of lilies — these she knew. 

And in sweet secret places, under blue 

And kindly skies. 

With pity in her eyes, 
Wrought golden vesture — silvered with sunrise, 

To deck their death withal ; 

And many a coronal ; 
And fashioned her red leaves into sea-waves 

To ripple round their graves ! 



OCTOBER 

Tears, but the light of tears! 
A moment mourns she for the dying years, 

Anon to race 
Sylph-like through crimson woodlands, in the embrace 
Of rival winds that toss about her face 
Her shiny ringlets, clamoring to sip 

The red wine of her lip ! 
And in the gathered glory of the day, 
Wending her glorious and golden way 
To gorgeous groves, rose-radiant with May ! 



I would I had a rhyme wherewith to robe her— 

The fair October! 
But rhyme on rhyme my fancy vainly weaves:- 
In red recesses of her realm of leaves 
I do not find her melancholy — sober, — 

The glad October ! 



TIME'S UP! 

TIME'S up for love and laughter: 
We drained the banquet cup, 
And now the dark comes after, 

And lights are out. . . . Time's up! 

O lovers in sweet places. 

With lips of song and sigh, 
Come forth with pallid faces 

And kiss your last good-by! 

O sweet bride at the marriage, 

Impatient at thy gates, 
Beside a sable carriage 

A ghostly groomsman waits ! 

O statesman, crowned and splendid, 
The laurel leaves thy brow ; 

The long debate is ended — 
The halls are voiceless now. 

lO 



time's up! 

Time's up for wooing, winning — 
For doubt, for dream, for strife; 

For sighing and for sinning — 
For love, for hate, for life! 

Time's up. . . . The dial's mark is 
On the last hour complete. 

Lie down there, where the dark is. 
And dream that Time was sweet! 



II 



THE GRAVEYARD RABBIT 

IN the white moonlight, where the willow waves, 
He halfway gallops among the graves — 
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam. 

Content to dwell where the dead men dream, 

But wary still: 

For they plot him ill : 

For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm 

(May God defend us ! ) to shield from harm ! 

Over the shimmering slabs he goes — 
Every grave in the dark he knows ; 
But his nest is hidden from human eye 
Where headstones broken on old graves lie. 

Wary still ! 

For they plot him ill : 

For the graveyard rabbit, though skeptics scoff, 

Charmeth the witch and the wizard off! 

12 



THE GRAVEYARD RABBIT 

The black man creeps, when the night is dim, 

Fearful, still, on the track of him; 

Or fleety follows the way he runs, 

For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones. 

Wary still I 

For they plot him ill ; 

The soul's bewitched, that would find release. 

To the graveyard rabbit go for peace ! 

He holds their secret — he brings a boon 
Where winds moan wild in the dark o' the moon ; 
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet 
To whoever shall sever his furry feet! 

Wary still ! 

For they plot him ill : 

For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm 

(May God defend us!) to shield from harm! 



13 



A SONG OF HARVEST 

SING a song of harvest — sing it, ring it sweet : 
Set it to the music of the ripple of the wheat ! 
Sweetheart, sweetheart, 

Reaping as we go, 
A kiss amid the music 

And the wheat would never know ! 

Sing a song of harvest — sing it, ring it true ! 
Symphonies of sunlight and mysteries of dew ; 
Sweetheart, sweetheart. 
Summer sighs to go ; 
A kiss amid the music 

And the wheat would never know. 

Sing a song of harvest — of many a golden tithe ; 
Set it to the tinkle and the twinkle of the scythe ; 
Sweetheart, sweetheart. 
Loves a reaper, too ; 
Love is in the music 

And the thrilling heart of you. 



A SONG OF HARVEST 

Sing a song of harvest like the ripple of a stream, 
Till the shadows kiss the meadows and the stars 
above us dream ; 

Sweetheart, sweetheart, 
Summer sighs to go ; 
A kiss amid the music 

And the wheat would never know. 



15 



IN EVIDENCE 

THIS is the spot where the man was slahi ; 
Never a blade of grass hath grown — 
For all the sunlight and all the rain — 

Where he fell in the dark alone ! 
This is the marked and the unblessed place — 
And the earth keeps the print of his murdered face. 

Slain that night as he rode along 

To the lips of the woman who loved him best ; 
For the hate in his rival's heart was strong 

As the love in his victim's breast. 
And while he mused on the victory won, 
There came a flash from the ambushed gun. 

A flash, and a fall in the dark. But lo! 

Between the slain and the slayer lies 
That spot, which even the winter's snow 

Hides not from human eyes. 
That spot whose evil no priest may ban — 
With the awful mask of the murdered man. 



i6 



THE LOVE GAGE 

A RED rose at Lucinda's feet: 
Ho ! gallants — east and west, 
Who'll race that royal rose to greet — 

Who'll wear it on his breast? 
A red rose at Lucinda's feet: 
Who loves Lucinda best? 

A red rose at Lucinda's feet: 

Ho ! gallants — speed amain ! 
That rose hath known her kisses sw^eet — 

Her lips its crimson stain ! 
A red rose at Lucinda's feet: 

What knight the rose will gain? 

A red rose at Lucinda's feet: 

See where her lips have pressed! 

Through light and storm sure-mettled — fleet, 
Speed, lovers, east and west! 

A red rose at Lucinda's feet: 
Who loves Lucinda best ? 



17 



WITH MY PIPE 

WHEN the wind blows cold and shrilly through the 
black December night, 
And the oak logs pile the chimney and the flame is leap- 
ing bright; 
Then witch tales are in order, and the children cease 

their play, 
I light my pipe contentedly and puff and puff away ! 
Puff, puff, puff! 

Though the wind the casement cuff, 
A full pipe of tobacco 
Brings me happiness enough! 

Is sleep the time for dreaming? Well, I dream my 

dreams awake: 
I love the varying visions that a wreath of smoke can 

make ; 
The scent of my tobacco makes me reconciled to stay 
In a world which hath no sorrow but a pipe can puff away, 

|8 



WITH MY PIPE 

Puff, puff, puff! 

Let the world go smooth or rough, 

A pipe of rich tobacco 

Brings me happiness enough. 

In the blue smoke round me curling rise the Carolina 

hills. 
The sunlight on the meadows and the ripple on the 

rills ; 
And the valleys of Virginia seem to blossom with the 

May, 
And I hear the reapers singing as I puff and puff away. 
Puff, puff, puff! 

What though fortune should rebuff? 
A pipe of fine tobacco 
Brings me happiness enough. 

Old friends I loved come smiling through each misty 

wreath that curls ; 
I hear the fiddler's music — see the red lips of the girls; 



WITH MY PIPE 

The snows of life's December have a rainbow-tinted 

ray, 
And a sweet face I remember makes me sigh and puff 
away. 

Puff, puff, puff. 
Life is rosy — life is rough ; 
But a pipe of sweet tobacco 
Brings me happiness enough. 

But I smile, for I'm contented, and no visions can pro- 
voke 
When the frosty air is scented with old-time tobacco 

smoke ; 
The girls I loved are married, and their golden locks 

are gray ; 
Be my blessing to them carried as I puff and puff away ! 
Puff, puff, puff. 

Let the wind the casement cuff: 
A pipe of rare tobacco 
Brings me happiness enough ! 



20 






so MANY! 

SO many stars in the infinite space — 
So many worlds in the light of God's fac< 

So many storms ere the thunders shall cease — 
So many paths to the portals of Peace. 

So many years, so many tears — 

Sighs and sorrows and pangs and prayers. 

So many ships in the desolate night — 
So many harbors, and only one Light. 

So many creeds like the weeds in the sod — 
So many temples, and only one God. 



21 



LITTLE BIT OF A FELLOW 

LITTLE bit of a fellow— 
Couldn't get him to sleep, 
And the mother sighed 
As he tossed and cried : 
"He's such a trouble to keep!" 
Little bit of a fellow — 
Couldn't get him to sleep. 

Little bit of a fellow! — 

But the eyes of the mother weep ; 
For one sad night 
That was lost to light 

God smiled and kissed him to sleep. 
Little bit of a fellow! — 

And he wasn't a trouble to keep! 



22 



THE STORY OF THE WOOD 



WHAT said the Wood in the fire 
To the little boy that night — 
The little boy of the golden hair, 
As he rocked himself in his little arm-chair- 
When the blaze was burning bright ? 

The Wood said: "See 

Wliat they've done to me ! 
I stood in the forest, a beautiful tree, 
And waved my branches from east to west, 
And many a sweet bird built its nest 

In my leaves of green 

That loved to lean 
In springtime over the daisies* breast! 

23 



THE STORY OF THE WOOD 

*'From the blossoming dells 

Where the violet dwells 
The cattle came with their clanking bells 
And rested under my shadows sweet ; 
And the winds that went over the clover and wheat 

Told me all that they knew 

Of the flowers that grew 
In the beautiful meadows that dreamed at my feet! 

*'And the wild wind's caresses 

Oft rumpled my tresses ; 
But sometimes, as soft as a mother's lip presses 
On the brow of the child of her bosom, it laid 
Its lips on my leaves, and I was not afraid ! 

And I listened, and heard 

The small heart of each bird 
As it beat in the warm nest the mother had made ! 

"And in springtime sweet faces 

Of myriad graces 
Came beaming and gleaming from flowery places ; 
24 



THE STORY OF THE WOOD 

And under my grateful and joy-giving shade, 
With cheeks like primroses the little ones played ; 

And the sunshine in showers 

Throup^h all the brisfht hours 
Bound their beauteous ringlets with silvery braid. 



"And the lightning 
Came brightening 
From far skies, and frightening 
The wandering birds that were tossed by the breeze 
And tilted like ships on black, billowy seas! 
But they flew to my breast 
And I rocked them to rest, 
While the trembling vines clustered and clung at 
my knees ! 

"But how soon," said the Wood, 
"Fades the memory of good! 
Though with sheltering love and sweet kindness 
I stood. 



THE STORY OF THE WOOD 

The forester came with his ax gleaming bright, 
And I fell like a giant, all shorn of his might! 

Yet still there must be 

Some sweet mission for me : 
For have I not warmed you and cheered you to- 
night?" 

So said the Wood in the fire 

To the little boy that night — 
The little boy of the golden hair, 
As he rocked himself in his little arm-chair — 

When the blaze was burning bright. 



26 



THE RAPIER 

HERE In the dark the scabbard hangs, and red 
The rapier is with rust; 
The cruel hand that wielded it lies dead 
In dim, forgotten dust. 

For forth a soldier to the battle fared — 

Forth from a woman fair, 
Whose kiss the conflict to his soul endeared, 

And met the rapier there. 

And w^hen, far hidden in the cannon's smoke 

And in the crimson rain, 
The man reeled lifeless from the rapier's stroke. 

The woman, too, was slain ! 



27 



WHEN JENNY RODE TO MILL WITH ME 

WHEN Jenny rode to mill with me 
The daisies bared their bosoms ; 
The spring winds rumpled every tree 
And stirred a storm of blossoms. 

The squirrels scampered from the hedge, 

The cows were in the clover ; 
The lilies rimmed the river's edge 

And dusky doves flew over. 

The white road seemed to welcome us, 

By shaken dewdrops dented ; 
The groves with song were tremulous, 

By lonely violets scented. 

The mad wind seemed to envy all 

The curls beneath her bonnet, 
And let the dew-dashed blossoms fall 

In twinkling showers on it. 
28 



WHEN JENNY RODE TO MILL WITH ME 

How well the way old "Milton" knew 
In all the springtime weather ; 

His back was broad enough for two, 
And so — we rode together! 

He loitered in the light and song ; 

He knew the spell that bound me, 
And that the way was never long 

While Jenny's arms were round me! 

The rose had then no cruel thorn 
To mar the moment's blisses; 

The miller took his toll in corn, 
And I took mine in kisses. 

But time has left us far apart ; 

Yet, though the years are many, 
The dear old road runs round the heart 

That frames the face of Jenny. 

And I would give the world to see 
The daisies' milk-white bosoms 

Where Jenny rode to mill with me 
Amid a storm of blossoms? 
29 



CHUCK WILL'S WIDOW 

OVER the fields and the woodlands you hear it 
* ' Wlll-marrled-the-widow ! ' * 
Now it is distant, and now you are near it : 

" Will-married-the-widow ! '* 
Nothing is told 
Of his grace or his gold — 
If Willie was young, or the widow was old ; 
Only that statement comes over the wold : 
" Will-married-the-widow ! " 

How it is echoing far down the valley : 

* ' Will-married-the-widow ! '* 
Under the stars where the fairy forms rally: 

' ' Will-married-the-widow ! '* 
Foolish, or wise, 
Will was after the prize ; 

But whether the widow had brown or blue eyes 
The mystic musician sings not to the skies: 

But — "Will-married-the-widow!" 
30 



CHUCK WILL S WIDOW 

Why from the woods that monotonous singing; 

"Will-married-the-widow ! " 
Why not the bells, with a jubilant ringing; 

If ' ' Will-married-the-widow ! ' ' 
Did Will run away 
With the widow that day — 
Away o'er the world in a chariot gay? 
Was there any objection ? He never will say ! 

But — " Will-married-the-widow ! ' ' 

Over the fields and the woodlands you hear it: 

"Will-married-the-widow ! " 
' Tis a will-o'-the-wisp ; but you're never too near it ; 

"Will-married-the-widow!" 
Married her — ho! 
'Twas a long time ago ; 
But why, is a secret you never will know: 
Let us hope 'twas a love match, for weal or for woe, 

When Will-married-the-widow! 



31 



A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG 

FOR what are we thankful for ? For this 
For the breath and the sunlight of life : 
For the love of the child, and the kiss 
On the lips of the mother and wife. 
For roses entwining, 

For bird and for bloom, 
And hopes that are shining 
Like stars in the gloom. 

For what are we thankful for? For this: 

The strength and the patience of toil ; 
For even the dreams that are bliss — 
The hope of the seed in the soil. 
For souls that are whiter 

From day unto day; 
And lives that are brighter 
From going God's way. 
32 



A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG 

For what are we thankful for ? For all : 
The sunlight — the shadow — the song; 
The blossoms may wither and fall, 
But the world moves in music along! 
For simple, sweet living, 

('Tis love that doth teach it) 
A heaven forgiving 

And faith that can reach it! 



S3 



CLARISSE 

KISS you? Wherefore should I, sweet? 
Casual kissing I condemn; 
Other lips your lips will meet 

When my kisses die on them! 
Should I grieve that this should be ? 
Nay — if you will kiss, kiss me ! 

Love you ? That were vainer still ! 

If you win my love to-day, 
When the morrow comes you will 

Lightly laugh that love away ! 
Should I grieve that this should be ? 
Nay — if you must love, love me! 

Wherefore play these fickle parts ? 

Life and love will soon be done ! 
Think you God made human hearts 

Just for you to tread upon ? 
Will you break them, nor repine? 
If you will, Clarisse, break mine! 



34 



LIGHT ON THE HILLS 

DYING, they lifted his curly head, 
And he looked to the east, and smiling said ; 
"It's light on the hills!" 
And he went away, in the morning bright, 
With that last, sweet, quivering word of " Light" 
On the lips Death kissed to a silence long. . . . 
So ends the sighing, and so ends the song. 

And I think that Death, with his icy breath. 
Was kind to him ; and I'm friend with Death 

For that light on the hills! 
Back of it — back of it glooms the Night, 
Dark and lonely ; but all was light 
When his lips were laid in the silence long. . . . 

So ends the sighing, and so ends the song. 

35 



LIGHT ON THE HILLS 

If I remember his brief, bright years 

With the pang at the heart — with the falling of tears, 

There is light on the hills ! 
But he sleeps beneath, and the light's above, 
And something is lost to the world in love. 
And heaven knows this ; but it does no wrong. . . . 

So ends the sighing, and so ends the song. 

" There is light on the hills." So we sing, so we say. 
When God sends His angel to kiss it away — 

There is light on the hills ! 
And we kneel in the darkness and say that we trust. 
When heaven's not as dear as our love in the dust! — 
As the love that it reaps — that it keeps from us 
long. . . . 

So ends the sighing, and so ends the song. 



36 



LINNIE'S HAIR 

OVER my dreaming heart I wear 
A little lock of Linnie's hair; 
A soft wind from the far, sweet west, 
Kissing it, tossed it to my breast, 
And with sweet farewells left it there — 
This little lock of Linnie's hair. 

And not the long and lonesome years, 
With days of sorrow, nights of tears ; 
And not the changing of the skies — 
The sundered hands, the darkened eyes, 
Haved dimmed the beauty, golden fair. 
Of this lone lock of Linnie's hair. 

Ere her sweet kiss on it was cold 
I wrought for it a frame of gold ; 
But gold is bought and sold ; and so, 
My heart enshrined it long ago. 
And down to death that heart shall bear 
This little lock of Linnie's hair. 

37 



linnie's hair 

O ships upon the tropic seas ! 
Your sails bend not to any breeze 
As sweet as that which tenderly 
Tossed Linnie's tresses over me! 
And left this witness lying there — 
Which I in life and death shall wear- 
This little lock of Linnie's hair! 



38 



MOTHERHOOD 

THOU shalt have grace where glory Is forgot ; 
The love all luminous in the w^orld's last night; 
Thy children's arms shall be thy necklace bright, 
And all love's roses clamber to thy cot. 
And if a storm one steadfast star should blot 

From they pure heaven, God's angels shall relight 
The lamps for thee, and make the darkness white ; 
The lilies of His love shall be thy lot! 

He shall give all His angels charge of thee ; 

Thy coming and thy going shall be known. 
Their steps shall shine before thee radiantly. 

Lest thou shouldst dash thy foot against a stone. 
The cross still stands. Who shall that love condemn 
Whose mother-lips kissed Christ at Bethlehem ? 



39 



HIS GRANDMOTHER'S WAY 

TELL you, gran' mother's a queer one, shore — 
Makes yer heart go pitty-pat ! 
If the wind jest happens to open a door, 

She'll say there's " a sign " in that! 
An' if no one ain't in a rockin'-chair 
An' it rocks itself, she'll say: "Oh, dear! 

Oh, dear! Oh, my! 
I'm afeared 'at somebody is goin' to die!" 
An' she makes me cry — 
She makes me cry! 

Once wuz a owl 'at happened to light 

On our tall chimney-top. 
An' screamed an' screamed in the dead o' night, 

An' nuthin' could make it stop! 
An' gran' ma — she uncovered her head 
An' almos' frightened me out the bed : 

"Oh, dear! Oh, my! 
I'm certain 'at some one is goin' to die ! " 
An' she made me cry— » 
She made me cry! 
40 



HIS GRANDMOTHER S WAY 

Jest let a cow lean over the gate 
An' bellow, an' gran' ma — she 
Will say her prayers, if it's soon or late, 

An' shake her finger at me ! 
An' then, an' then you'll hear her say: 
"It's a sign w'en the cattle act that way! 

Oh, dear! Oh, my! 
I'm certain 'at somebodj^'s goin' to die!" 
Oh, she makes me cry — 
She makes me cry! 

Skeeriest person you ever seen ! 

Always a-huntin' fer "signs" ; 
Says it's "spirits" 'at's good, or mean, 

If the wind jest shakes the vines! 
I always feel skeery w'en gran'ma's aroun' — 
An' think 'at I see things, an' jump at each soun' 

"Oh, dear! Oh, my! 
I'm certain 'at somebody's goin' to die!" 

Oh, she makes me cry — 

She makes me cry! 



41 



BENEATH THE MISTLETOE 

HOW do Sweet Margaret's dimples race 
Around the roses of her face ! 
And I dare swear the force that stirs 

The flower that doth her bosom grace, 
Is that tumultuous heart of hers ! 

Who'll wager on the dimple race? 
My glove, my glory and my bliss 
That love can catch them with a kiss ! 

How do Sweet Margaret's fingertips 

Shield the rare ruby of her lips ! 

But I dare swear her snow-white hand 

That doth the crimson so eclipse. 
Shall fall before her heart's command! 

Who'll race the rose-way to her lips? 
My glove, my glory and my bliss 
Love wins the ruby with a kiss ! 



42 



WHEN THE LITTLE BOY RAN AWAY 

WHEN the little boy ran away from home 
The birds in the treetops knew, 
And they all sang "Stay!" But he wandered away 

Under the skies of blue. 
And the Wind came whispering from the tree : 
"Follow me — follow me!" 

And it sang him a song that was soft and sweet, 
And scattered the roses before his feet 

That day — that day 

When the little boy ran away. 

The Violets whispered: "Your eyes are blue 

And lovely and bright to see ; 
And so are mine, and I'm kin to you. 

So dwell in the light with me!" 
But the little boy laughed, while the Wind in glee 
Said: "Follow me — follow me!" 

43 



WHEN THE LITTLE BOY RAN AWAY 

And the Wind called the clouds from their home in the 

skies 
And said to the Violet: "Shut your eyes!" 

That day— that day 

When the little boy ran away. 

Then the Wind played leap-frog over the hills 

And twisted each leaf and limb ; 
And all the rivers and all the rills 

Were foaming mad with him ! 
And 'twas dark as the darkest night could be, 
But still came the Wind's voice: "Follow me!" 
And over the mountain, and up from the hollow 
Came echoing voices, with: "Follow him — follow!" 

That awful day 

When the little boy ran away ! 

Then the little boy cried: "Let me go — let me go!" 

For a scared — scared boy was he ! 
But the Thunder growled from a black cloud : "No !" 

And the Wind roared: "Follow me !" 
And an old gray Owl from a treetop flew, 
Saying: "Who are you-oo? Who are you-oo?" 

44 



WHEN THE LITTLE BOY RAN AWAY 

And the little boy sobbed: "I'm lost away, 
And I want to go home w^here my parents stay!" 

Oh, the awful day 

When the little boy ran away ! 

Then the Moon looked out from a cloud and said 

"Are you sorry you ran away? 
If I light you home to your trundle bed. 

Will you stay, little boy, will you stay?" 
And the little boy promised — and cried and cried- 
He would never leave his mother's side; 
And the Moonlight led him over the plain 
And his mother welcomed him home again. 

But oh, what a day 

When the little boy ran away ! 



45 



THE SHIPS AT SEA 

THE ship has put to sea, 
And the sailors merrily 
'Neath the wind-blown sails are singing of the fairy 
shores to be. 

They are singing, they are singing, 
While the harbor-bells are ringing 
Farewell unto the brave ship like a gull the ocean wing- 
ing ! 

They ask not where they steer 
'Neath the stormy skies and clear, 
But their trust is in their captain, and the billows bring 
no fear. 

Though thick the dangers throng, 
Yet the voyage is not long, 
And the dark brings dreams of morning in the rosy 
realms of song. 

46 



THE SHIPS AT SEA 

They dream, in storm and star, 
Of the shores where white ships are, 
And dreaming, hear the music of the harbor-bells afar. 

Fair shores, in peace empearled. 
Where the sea-torn flags are furled. 
Whose songs of welcome win them from God's high- 
way o'er the world. 

And so, they sail, and dream 
Of a lovelier morning's beam. 
With all their white sails bending, and all their lights 
a-gleam. 

They fare through storm and night, 
But no dangers can affright ; 
For their trust is in their captain, and the harbor is in 
sight ! 



47 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

OLD, old, old! . . . And I think I've lived my day, 
And folks that are old as I am had better be out 
of the way ; 
Had better be lying asleep under the grasses deep, 
Where the crickets cry for lonesomeness, and the long, 
cold shadows creep. 

Old, old, old! . . It was only a year ago — 

A month — a day — as I may say, I stood where the vio- 
lets blow. 

And the wind came over the meadows whispering — 
whispering sweet. 

And the birds sang in the blossoms that rained their red 
at my feet. 

My eyes were as blue as the sky then — blue as the sky, 

and bright, 
And if ever a tear came trembling, it was lost in the 

April light ; 

48 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

The red o' the rose was on my cheek — so wrinkled now 
and old, 

And he said my curls were shiny with all o' the sun- 
flower's gold. 

I was there at the golden gate, and he was standing by ; 
And the doves were flying over, an' we heard the kil- 

dee's cry; 
And the silver bells o' the thrushes were tinkling in 

copses dim, 
And the sweetest o' the violets I kissed and gave to him. 

And some one was calling — calling to come to the house- 
hold cares, 

And I mind that when he left me my cheeks were wet 
with tears — 

Not the tears that I weep to-day, for they are bitter, 
and bum! 

But the tears of a first, sweet love — that had no lessons 
to learn. 

Old, old, old! . . . An' yet, it was yesterday 

My little ones were around me, and knelt at my knees 
to pray 

4 49 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

The child-prayers, morning and evening, with the love- 
light on each brow — 

Asking God to bless the mother that God's forgotten 
now! 

And then, while I was dreaming sweet dreams 'neath 
a morning sky. 

They came to me and kissed me a last and sad good-by ; 

And some sent comfort to me from far and far away, 

And some I'll see no more — no more, until God's judg- 
ment day. 

If my children were around me- -could I see in the fire- 
light's shine 

That's flickering out like my life, the face — the face of 
a child of mine, 

And hear him call me, "Mother!" d'ye think that I'd 
mind to-day 

The looks that tell me I've lived too long — the lips that 
wish me away? 



5° 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

I held 'em in my arms — I nursed 'em at my breast, 
And I said: "In God's good time they'll come to lead 

me into rest; 
And the twilight will be sweet, an' they'll shelter my 

age from harms, 
And death'U come like a dream, an' I'll fall asleep in 

their arms." 

But here I wait alone — alone while the shadows creep. 
And hear the crickets crying in the graveyard grasses 

deep ; 
They seem to be calling, calling — and the shadows seem 

to say: 
''You are only a shadow in the light, and the light must 

have its way!" 

The world has left me alone. How strange that the 

good Lord sends 
To youth a rosy pathway, and plenty of love and friends ; 
And twines the arms of your children round you in life's 

sweet May ; 
And then, when the night falls dreary, takes the love 

and the light away ! 

5' 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

Love that wooed an' won me — all o' the love He gave, 
Comes to me now in the darkness like echoes over my 

grave ; 
And strange, and strange that he leaves me here, where 

now no love is seen, 
When 'twixt my own and heaven there^s only a grave 

of green ! 

At every click o' the latch at morn, or evening late, 
I raise my eyes and ask 'em if Death is at the gate? 
But Life comes in with cheeks of bloom, and rose and 

violet; 
And I clasp my wrinkled hands and moan: "Not yet — 

not yet — not yet !" 

And then Life brings a violet and lays it in my hand. 
And once more at the gate of Life beside my own I 

stand ; 
And the silver bells o' the thrushes tinkle in copses dim ; 
But the sweetest o' the violets were those I kissed for 

him! 



5? 



AT THE TWILIGHT GATE 

Old, old, old ! . . . And I know that I've spent my 

day; 
The world that I am living in is far and far away ; 
Far and far away, where the old-time meadows be ; 
And none to take my hand now, and walk that way 

with me ! 

Better far to be lying under the grasses deep 

Where the crickets cry for lonesomeness, and the long, 

last shadows creep ; 
There will be violets sweet to grow over my grave so 

dim ; 
But the sweetest of the violets were those I kissed for 

him! 



53 



EUGENE FIELD 

FADES his calm face beyond our mortal ken, 
Lost in the light of lovelier realms above ; 
He left sweet memories in the hearts of men 

And climbed to God on little children's love. 



54 



M' 



A BOY'S VIEW OF IT 

OTHER — she's always a-sayln% she is, 

Boys must be looked after — got to be strict; 
When I tear my breeches like Billy tears his, 

It helps *em considerable when I am licked! 
But it ain't leapin' over the fence or the post — 
It's jest that same lickin* at tears 'em the most! 

^Mother — she's always a-sayin' to me, 

Boys must have people to f oiler 'em roun' ; 

Never kin tell where they're goin' to be ; 
Sure to git lost, an' then have to be foun*. 

An' then — when they find 'em, they're so full of joy 

They can't keep from lovin' an' lickin' the boy! 

There's Jimmy Johnson — got lost on the road; 

Daddy wuz drivin' to market one day, 
Fell out the wagon, an' nobody knowed 

Till they come to a halt, an' his daddy said: "Hey! 
Wonder where Jimmy is gone to?'* But Jim — 
Warn't no two bosses could keep up with him ! 

55 



A BOY*S VIEW OF IT 

Jest kept agoln', an* got to a place 

Where wuz a circus ; took up with the clown, 

Cut off his ringlets and painted his face, 

An* then come right back to his daddy's own town! 

An' what do you reckon? His folks didn't know. 

An' paid to see Jimmy that night in the show ! 

An' there's Billy Jenkins — he jest run away 
(Folks at his house wuzn't treatin' him right) ; 

Went to the place where the red Injuns stay ; 

An' once, when his daddy wuz travelin' at night 

An' the Injuns took after him, hollerin' loud. 

Bill run to his rescue, an' scalped the whole crowd ! 



No use in talkin' — boys don't have no show! 

Wuzn't fer people a-follerin' 'em roun', 
Jest ain't no tellin' how fast they would grow ; 

Bet you they'd fool everybody in town I 
But mother — she says they need lickin', an' so 
They're too busy hollerin' to git up an' grow! 

56 



WITH OLD-TIME FRIENDS 

HOW welcome on this winter night 
Would be the comfortable light 
Of some old, mossy, gabled inn 
Where Canterbury folk have been ! 
A corner where the Boar's Head sign 
Invited travelers to dine ; 
Where friend Jack Falstaff all forlorn 
Came posting from Gad's Hill that morn 
And boisterously called for sack, 
And beat the rogues in buckram back! 

How welcome by the bright blaze there 
The prince's pleasantry to hear ! 
To have "lean Jack" a toast propose 
Where burned the fly on Bardolph's nose ! 



57 



WITH OLD-TIME FRIENDS 

Or, housed with Justice Shallow slim, 
Prate of the days of youth with him ! 
What more, good friends, hath life to win 
Than one's own ease in one's own inn? 

How fair would be the Christian luck 
That led my steps to Friar Tuck ; 
To see in his deceptive cell 
The hero of Saint Dunstan's well. 
And mark him spread his homely fare 
To Richard Coeur de Lion there ; 
And by some secret spell or sign 
Transform the water into wine ! 
Ah, w^ere we there, each merry wight 
Would have a rouse this winter night ! 

'Sdeath ! but the friendly folk of old 
Had arts wherewith to charm the cold ! 
The coaches lumbering along 
Were rife with story and with song ; 
And o'er the frozen ways and white 
The inn-fires flashed their cheerful light; 

58 



WITH OLD-TIME FRIENDS 

What cared they for the wintry hail 
In the companionship of ale? 
The hooded friar told his tale ; 
No more the justice meant — the jail ; 
Mine host beamed rosy-faced and fair, 
And joined the nightly revel there ! 
Zounds ! how the memory lures me back ! 
Sirrah, a cup of sack — of sack ! 



59 



A SONG OF LOVE 

HOW love is wrought about us 
In stormy scenes and fair! 
Within us and without us 
All life is love, my dear ! 

Love in the wild winds blowing — 
Love in the dark and light, 

The reaping and the sowing, 
The red rose and the white. 

Love in the blue above us, 
Love in the boundless deep ! 

O Love, still lead and love us 
Till on thy breast we sleep. 



60 



A 



A MEMORY OF HIM 



LITTLE Book of Western Verse' 
Without the skies are snowing ; 



The spirits of the night rehearse 
Life's drama; winds are blowing. 

The phantom flakes against the pane ; 

They cling there weirdly — whitely ; 
And yet the bloom is on the grain 

And summer winds blow lightly ! 

Flutelike across far fields of wheat 
And plains to sunset streaming 

Drifts southward, mystical and sweet, 
A dreamer's voice in dreaming. 

A dreamer in the dark unseen : 
But where the maples shiver 

The light illuminates the green — 
The song thrills through the river. 
6i 



A MEMORY OF HIM 

And here, beside the windy blaze, 
With night and storm around me, 

An echo from melodious days — 

The dreamer's voice hath found me! 

And one unto my heart is prest, 
Sweet memories of him bringing ; 

And one smiles on the mother's breast, 
Lulled by his gentle singing. 

And one — asleep beneath the storm, 
Life's gi'ace, life's glory summing; 

Whose curls may keep the violets warm, 
Loved well the dreamer's coming. 

O storm without! and light within! 

O wan snows coldly gleaming! 
What hope, what joy hath life to win.^ 

Read me the dreams I'm dreaming! 

But lo! above his life's page beams 
A light no storm shall smother ; 

God's own good-morning to thy dreams. 
Singer, and friend, and brother! 

63 



THE FACES HE LOVED TO THE LAST 

ENDED — the roar and the rattle, 
The clash and the clamor that made 
The wrath and the red of the battle — 
The shouts of the charging brigade. 
And over his rest in the meadow 

The shadow forever is cast, 
But faces smile sweet from the shadow — 
The faces he loved to the last! 

His sword rusts in silence beside him — 

His brave heart is hidden in dust ; 
But whatever his country denied him, 

He was true to his love and his trust. 
And under the light and the blossom — 

Like spirits that speak from the past, 
They found on the dust of his bosom 

The faces he loved to the last. 

63 



THE FACES HE LOVED TO THE LAST 

The last lips that kissed him and blessed him 

When he went to the death-darkened strife ; 
The child-arms that clasped and caressed him 

And kissed his heart's love into life! 
They smile from the shadows around him — 

In death's dim embraces held fast ; 
They were there on his breast when they found 
him — 

The faces he loved to the last. 

And death becomes tender and human, 

That still, in the ruin of years, 
Hath spared the sweet face of a woman 

And given it back to our tears ! 
And the rose would seem sweeter above him 

For all of the dark shadows cast, 
Could he know that these faces still love him — 

The faces he loved to the last ! 



64 



IN LOVE'S TENDER KEEPING 

HOLD me a little away from the world, 
Dear arms ! with your tenderest clinging; 
The bird with its breast to the blue singeth sweet, 

But the stars never answer its singing. 
The cold lights but lure us to lead us astray ; 
The thorn's in the red of the rose of the May — 
Lead me to love, dear, and teach me to pray. 

Hold me a little away from the world. 

Dear arms ! with your firm clasp and tender; 
For the lights on the heights stream through desolate 
nights — 
A tempest of tears in the splendor. 
'Tis the gleam and the dream that would lead us astray : 
The keen thorns have crimsoned the roses of May — 
Lead me to love, dear, and teach me to pray. 



65 



HIS MOTHER'S KISS 

IT was her wont when, tired of play, 
He to her bosom crept. 
With golden hair in disarray, 

To kiss him as he slept. 
And still her plea would be but this: 
*'I shall not wake him with a kiss !*' 

So heavenly-sweet his sleeping face — 

So beautiful and bright, 
I know the angels lift the lace 

To kiss my boy good-night ! 
For still he smiles in dreams of bliss: 
"How should I wake him with a kiss?" 

So did his mother say ; and when 
God whispered His sweet will, 
She only moaned: "He sleeps !" and then, 

Kneeling, she kissed him still. 
And weeping, murmured only this : 
"I can not wake him with a kiss !'* 



66 



OUR POETRY FARM 

IF ever, my dearest, your will is 
Inclined to the meadows that charm, 
When you're spending a day with the lilies. 
Pray, pause at our Poetry Farm. 

It's far from the poetry-makers 

Who dwell in grim castles of gloom ; 

It covers the loveliest acres 

That ever gave birth to a bloom ! 

There's a Pegasus placidly plowing 

(I have reined him with jessamine vines), 

And off he goes braying and bowing 
While I pull at the redolent lines. 

Around him the wild doves are winging — 
The sunbeams sweet messages send. 

And the mocking bird's musical singing 
Lures him on to the furrow's bright end. 

6^ 



OUR POETRY FARM 

When the world is athrill with the May-time 
And the sap's in the gladdened green trees, 

In the deeps of the flowery daytime 
We win the wild kiss of the breeze. 

And red and white roses come climbing 
In the mystical song-laden hours ; 

And sweetly the heather bell's chiming, 
As we plow up rare poems in flowers ! 

We lightly pass over the stubble, 

And reap where the goldenrods gleam ; 

The sharp thorns we circuit — like trouble, 
And drift where the white daisies dream. 

The sunflower's our epic, that rises 
And fearlessly flames to the sky ; 

And there a rare love-song surprises 
Where velvety violets lie. 

We gather them all, and we bind them 

In little bright bundles of song: 
'Come find them, ye lovers ! Come find them, 

And bring all your sweethearts along!" 
68 



OUR POETRY FARM 

And they come, from the loneliest places, 
And they come from the East and the West 

And they leave with the light on their faces, 
And a red rose of love on each breast ! 

So, my dear, if it ever your will is 

To seek the green meadows that charm, 

When you're out for a day with the lilies, 
Pray, pause at our Poetry Farm I 



69 



A SONG OF SEASONS 

THERE'S joy, my dear, in the youth o' the year, 
When the hearts o' the bright buds break 
And the skies are blue as the eyes o' you, 

And the blooms blow over the lake. 
There's joy, my dear, for the world is fair. 
And love is the sweetest blossom there ! 

There's joy, my dear, in the noon o' the year. 

When the hai-vest hints o' gold, 
And the soft sun streams with its gleams and dreams 

On your beautiful hair unrolled. 
There's joy, my dear, for the world is fair. 
And love is the blossom that's brightest there. 

There's joy, my dear, in the gray o' the year, 

When the snows are drifting white. 
And the cold winds cry to the starless sky 

And the last rose weeps: "Good-night V 
There's joy, my dear, for the world is fair, 
While your love like a lily is blooming there ! 



70 



A KILTED GENIUS 

HIS mother is his worshiper 
And followeth east and west 
To kiss the noisy trumpeter 

Who summons me from rest. 

(He hath so much the look of her 

I needs must love him best !) 

That he in sculpture shall excel 

I do devoutly trust, 
For he hath wrought a miracle 

On my dear Shakespeare's bust: 
Tasso beside him fares not well — 

His laurel laid in dust ! 

For learning all the world shall seek 
His footstool — so I deem ; 

He hath a play-house built of Greek 
And many a Latin theme. 

Homer hath kissed his rosy cheek 
And Dante shared his dream. 

7' 



A KILTED GENIUS 

That Art shall flourish 'neath his sway 
There is no cause to doubt ; 

Finding a Rembrandt far too gray 
And somber round about, 

With little lines of red to-day 
He brought its beauties out ! 

Soldier and citizen and sage 

And scholar shall he be ; 
His life a book wherein no page 

Hath any print of me ; — 
He doth partake of some great age 

In Time's obscurity! 

His mother is his worshiper 
And followeth east and west; 

Whate'er he loves she doth prefer 
To call that thing most blest ! 

(He hath so much the look of her 
I needs must love him best !) 



72 



AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD 

WHERE the rough road turns, and the valley sweet 
Smiles bright with its balm and bloom, 
We'll forget the thorns that have pierced the feet 

And the nights with their grief and gloom, 
And the sky will smile, and the stars will beam, 
And we'll lay us down in the light to dream. 

We shall lay us down in the bloom and light 

With a prayer and a tear for rest, 
As tired children who creep at night 

To the love of a mother's breast. 
And for all the grief of the stormy past, 
Rest shall be sweeter at last — at last ! 

Sweeter because of the weary way 

And the lonesome night and long. 
While the darkness drifts to the perfect day 

With its splendor of light and song. 
The light that shall bless us and kiss us and love us 
And sprinkle the roses of heaven above us ! 



73 



THE RUNAWAY TOYS 

THE Hobby Horse was so tired that day, 
With never a bite to eat, 
That he whispered the Doll: "I shall run away !'* 

And he galloped out to the street 
With the curly-headed Doll Baby on his back ; 
And hard at his heels went the Jumping Jack ! 
And the little boy — he never knew, 
Though the little Steam Engine blew and blew ! 

Then the Humming Top went round and round, 

And crashed through the window-pane, 
And the scared Tin Monkey made a bound 

For the little red Railroad Train 
The painted Duck went "Quack ! quack ! quack !" 
But the Railroad Train just whistled back ! 
Till the Elephant saw what the racket meant 
And packed his trunk and — away he went ! 

74 



THE RUNAWAY TOYS 

The little Toy Sheep in the corner there 

Was bleating long and loud ; 
But the Parrot said "Hush !" and pulled his hair, 

And he galloped off with the crowd ! 
And the Tin Horn blew and the Toy Drum beat, 
But away they went down the frightened street, 
Till they all caught up with the Railroad Train, 
And they never went back to their homes again ! 

The blue policeman and all the boys 

Went racing away — away ! 
For a big reward for the runaway Toys 

Was cried in the streets that day. 
But they kept right on round the world so wide, 
While the Little Boy stood on the steps and cried. 
Where did they go to, and w^hat did they do ? 
Bored a hole to China and — dropped through ! 



75 



RETRIBUTION 

ONCE, when I was poor, 
Love knocked at my door, 
"Some sad wretch," I cried, "who begs, 
And my cup drained to the dregs !'* 
So I cursed him from the light 

Out into the homeless night. 

• ••••• 

Once, with golden store, 

I knocked at Love's sweet door. 
"Some sad wretch," he cried, "whose gold 
Deems that love is bought and sold !" 
So he cursed me from the light 
Out into the homeless night. 



76 



THE CHRISTMASSE CHILDREN 

YE tin horn bloweth loud and long 
Adoun ye noisy street ; 
For Christmasse cometh, and a song 

For Christmasse time is meet, 
And ye shall do the Christ no wrong 
To love the children sweet. 

The joys that shineth in the eyes 
Of children charmeth still ; 

There is no man so great and wise 
But there shall drink his fill 

Of all the light of jDaradise, 
Shining of Christ His will. 

And be it trump or tinsel horn 
That pleaseth them to play, 

They, maken merrie, shall adorn 
The Christ's own holiday. 

For Christ Himself a child was born 
And loveth them alway ! 

11 



THE CHRISTMASSE CHILDREN 

They bloom, the roses of the earth, 

By all its sunshine blest; 
And that lone cot of love hath dearth 

Wherein no children nest. 
And he hath more than jewel's worth 

Who loveth children best. 

Wherefore, let children merrie make 
While bells of Christmasse chime, 

And to thine heart the darlings take 
And sing them in thy rhyme. 

Thou shalt do this for Christ His sake, 
At His own Christmasse time ! 



7S 



A 



ANNETTA JONES— HER BOOK 



RARE old print of Shakespeare — his works, in 

boards of brown, 
With quaint engravings; here and there the yellowed 

leaves turned down 
Where sweet, love-breathing Juliet speaks, and as I 

lean and look. 
Traced in pale, faded ink, these words: "Annetta 

Jones: Her Book.'* 



Now, this old print of Shakespeare I prize, because 'tis 
rare — 

The gem of all my library, in dust and glory there ; 

I marvel much at Hamlet's ghost, and Banquo's pict- 
ured bones. 

But w^ho — ye gods of ancient days, was this "Annetta 
Jones?" 

79 



ANNETTA JONES HER BOOK 

I think I've heard that name before, — Jones ? — Jones ? — I 

but that "Annetta," 
With odd embroidery around the first and final letter, 
Is sweet and quaint. . . . She was no saint, prim — 

grim ! for I discover 
By these sublime, marked sentences, Annetta had a lover! 

And I believe her eyes were blue — her lips as cherries 

• red, 
And many a shy, sweet kiss they knew, and tender 

words they said ; 
And from her powdered brows gold hair fell cloud-like 

— soft and sweet, 
Down-streaming, gleaming, dreaming in her silver-slip- I 

pered feet! 

She lived — she loved — was wedded ; the romance of 

her life 
Perchance was toned a trifle when her lover called her 

"wife;" 
But what a glorious fate is hers ! for as I lean and look 
Her name still shines with Shakespeare's: — "Annetta 

Jones: Her Book." 
So 



LOVE'S WAY 

COME," said Love, upon a day; 
"Come, and fare my rosy way ; 
If perchance the thorns we meet 
They shall make the roses swxet." 

So with Love I passed along : 
All the world was sweet with song ; 
Never thorn was mine, for he 
Hid them in his heart from me! 



8i 



''THE GRENADIERS" 

TO R. S. P. 



PIGOTT was singing "The Grenadiers," and I in 
the shadow sat, 
And thought of the time when the emperor stood there 

in his old cocked hat, 
And said to the guards at Waterloo, when his star was 

sinking dim: 
"There lies the road to Brussels!" and how they died 
for him ! 

Pigott was singing "The Grenadiers," and I in the 

shadow kept 
Time to his voice's silvery chime ; and it may be that I 

wept 
When "My Emperor is Taken" came ringing high and 

true 
And I saw the Old Guard charging for the Man of 

Waterloo ! 

32 



" THE GRENADIERS " 

Pigott was singing "The Grenadiers," and a star rose 
in the night, 

And I saw him there, in the lurid air, still gazing upon 
the fight 

With his gray coat wrapped around him and the En- 
glish hosts in view — 

The man for whom the Old Guard died on the field of 
Waterloo ! 

Pigott was singing "The Grenadiers," and the battle 

raged again, 
And the world around seemed crimson with the blood 

of heroes slain ! 
Pigott was singing "The Grenadiers," and I, in the 

shadow, knew 
The Ghost of the Man — the wondrous Man, of the 

field of Waterloo ! 



S3 



FROM THE SHADOW 

ARE the little ones all at home ? Answer me quickly 
— fearlessly, Sweet ! 
For I have been out in the world today, and Death has 

been reaping the street ; 
And it's voiceless for lack of a child's sweet voice — and 

a man's I held most dear: 
Are the little ones all at home, my love, — and the 
shadow passed so near? 

Yes — thank God ! — they are coming ! Beat — O glad 
heart — beat ! 

Music of children's voices, and children's pattering feet ! 

Living, to meet — to miss me — full in my arm's em- 
brace, — 

Climb to my heart and kiss me, and toss your curls in 
my face ! 

84 



FROM THE SHADOW 

God be praised of His mercy — for the stay of the iron 
rod, 

For these that I call my children are only a breath from 
God— 

The waft of a rose-leaf from him ; and oft in the lone- 
some night 

I fancy the Shadow is near them, and weep till the 
dawn of light. 

Come to the happy heart of me — come, ere the Shadow 

fall! 
A kiss and a clasp for you — and you ! There is room 

in my love for all ! 
Come, unheeding the glad, sweet tears that from my 

eyelids shine ; 
Tonight — tonight, in the dear home-light, with your 

mother's hand in mine ! 

O as I walked in the street today — In the chill and 

trampled street. 
The solemn shadow blurred the way and hid a child's 

face sweet, 

85 



FROM THE SHADOW 

And a woman went a-wailing, and the heart in a man 

fell dead, 
And fast to the dear home-valleys I dreamed the 

Shadow fled. 

And I could not toil for weeping ; for I heard the wo- 
man moan, 

And the Shadow was on my soul, and what if it struck 
— my own ? 

And my heart would not be steadfast when the Shadow 
passed from view. 

And, dreaming, I came unknowing to the dear sweet 
hearts of you ! 

All home, — thank God ! — save one, and she has been 

so long away 
We have ceased to weep when the shadows creep and 

gloom o'er the hills of gray 
To the violet acres of God, where they neither sow nor 

reap; 
Where Love is a rose in the sod — a song that sings her 

to sleep. 

86 



FROM THE SHADOW 

Warm hands and hearts at the bright home fires ! The 

wind is abroad in the night, 
And the rain's on the hills . . . but the Shadow has 

passed from my weeping sight ; 
Up to my arms ! unheeding the eyes where the glad 

tears shine, — 
Tonight — tonight, in the sweet home-light, and your 

mother's hand in mine ! 



87 



THE LOVE LIGHTS OF HOME 

THE bird to the nest and the bee to the comb 
When the night from the heavens falls dreary, 
And Love to the light in the windows of home — 
The light of the love of my dearie ! 

And Love to the light, like a swallow in flight, 
When the storm blows the stars from the blue of the 

night ; 
And a kiss from the red rose, a smile from the white. 
In the gardens that bloom for my dearie ! 

The ships to the harbor from over the foam. 
When the way has been stormy and weary. 

And Love to the light in the windows of home — 
The light of the love of my dearie ! 
88 



THE LOVE LIGHTS OF HOME 

And Love to the light, like the bloom from the 

blight, 
When the spring suns weave wonders of red and of 

white. 
And the darkness of winter is kissed to the bright 
In the gardens that bloom for my dearie. 

The bird to the nest and the bee to the comb, 

And never a night shall fall dreary 
While the lights in the beautiful windows of home 

Are lit by the love of my dearie ! 

And Love to the light, like a bird from the night, 
Where angels in lilies Love's litanies write, 
And a kiss from the crimson, a smile from white, 
In the gardens that bloom for my dearie ! 



89 



SUMMER'S FAREWELL 

THE maples seem to murmur, the lilies seem to sigh, 
For Summer says good-by, 
For Summer says good-by ; 
And the dew upon the daisy's like a tear-drop from 
the sky, 

For Summer says good-by — 
Good-by ! 

The sunflower fain would follow, the lily whispers, 
"Stay!" 

When Summer says good-by, 
When Summer says good-by ; 
In all the crimson closes the roses weep; "Delay !" 
When Summer says good-by — 
Good-by ! 

But she calls her children 'round her 'neath the sorrow 
of the sky. 

And kisses them good-by, 
And kisses them good-by ; 
Then passes from their presence, while the echo of a sigh 
Drifts heavenward with "Good-by — 
Good-by!" 
90 



INDIAN SUMMER DAY 

THERE'S a lulling song of locusts and the hum of 
golden bees 
And you almost hear the sap flow through the thrilled 

veins of the trees ; 
And the hazy, mazy, dazy, dreaming world around you 

seems 
Like a mystic land enchanted — like a paradise of 
dreams ! 

Blue smoke from happy huts — 

A rain of ripened nuts ; 

And far o'er meadows ringing 

Sweet sounds as of a woman singing 
"Comin' through the rye — 
"Comin' through the rye !" 

And then the faint, uncertain, silver tenor of a bell 
That summons all the winds to prayer in many a clois- 
tered dell ; 

91 



INDIAN SUMMER DAY 

And then — a thrush's music from groves with golden 

gleams, 
The wild note of the mocking-bird — and still the dreams 

— the dreams ! 

Blue smoke from happy huts — 

A rain of ripened nuts ; 

And far, o'er golden meadows ringing, 

Sweet sounds as of a woman singing 
"Comin' through the rye — 
*'Comin' through the rye !" 



92 



A HOLIDAY NOTE 

WITHOUT — the snow ; within — the glow 
Of flames from oak logs hissing, 
And lips that 'neath the mistletoe 
Are red enough for kissing ! 



93 



THE OLD RAIL FENCE 

THE old rail fence with aimless angles 
Curved round the scented fields of old 
And wild, blown vines in quaintest tangles 

Bloomed there in purple and in gold. 
And winds went over, cool and sweet, 
With rivery ripples in the wheat. 

The white road to the river knew it — 

' The river running wild and fleet ; 
A cabin-path went winding to it. 

With light prints of a boy's bare feet. 
And cattle in the woods at morn 
Roamed by and nipped the bending corn. 

In corners cool the plowman rested 

When rang the welcome bells of noon ; 

And there the thrush and partridge nested 
And sang the mocking-birds of June. 

94 



THE OLD RAIL FENCE 

And winds were sweet with muscadines, 
And blooms were on the melon-vines. 

There twilight paused in rosy dreaming, 

And o'er the riot of the rills 
When starlight on the world was streaming 

Rose the love-song of whippoorwills. 
And with the music and the stars 
Love met his sweetheart at the bars. 

There, with the evening shadows falling. 
In cabin door a woman stands ; 

And far and sweet her voice is calling, 
And children heed her beckoning hands. 

There, for the weary ones that roam. 

Twinkle the dreamy lights of Home. 

The corn still waves and vines are clinging ; 

The larks are hid in bending grain ; 
The birds sing, as my heart is singing, 

Where, lonely in the woodland rain. 
The old rail fence — its service o*er — 
Curves round the blossoming fields no more. 
95 



THE OLD RAIL FENCE 

Yet, there I halt my horse, and sighing, 
Above the old rail fence I lean. 

The snows upon life's pathway lying 
Have left one living glimpse of green ! 

And still, through change of time and art. 

The old rail fence runs round my heart ! 



96 



A SONG IN JUNE 

DRY upon the field and plain- 
Dry on copse and clover ; 
Not a single drop of rain 
To tilt the lily over ! 

Whistle for the wind in vain : 
Not a blossom quivers ! 

Not a diamond drop of rain 
To dimple drow^sy rivers. 

O for just a rumpling breeze 
O'er the prospect sunny! 

One — to blow the golden bees 
Flowerward, to the honey! 

Just a whiff to stir the still 
Daisies in the meadow, 

And to toss o'er vale and hill 
Clouds of rainy shadow ! 

7 97 



A SONG IN JUNE 

O the fainting field and plain ! 

O the thirsting clover! 
Not a single drop of rain 

To tilt the lily over! 



98 



THE REAPERS 

THE long day's toil was over — 
A bird sang in a tree ; 
The sunshine kissed the clover 
Good-by, and — she kissed me ! 

Then lovelier seemed the sunshine, 
And sweeter sang the bird ; 

And if the clover listened 
My throbbing heart it heard. 

For all day long, a-reaping 

In fields of silver shine, 
I felt her heart a-creeping 

And cuddling close to mine. 

And lighter seemed the labor. 
And winsomer the wheat 

That spread its golden tresses 
For the falling of her feet. 

And when the toil was over 

A bird sang in a tree ; 
The sunshine kissed the clover 

Good-night, and — she kissed me! 

99 



WEARY FOR HER 

I*M weary 
For my dearie 
From the mornin' to the night; 
I'm missin' 
Of her kissin' 
An' her footsteps fallin' light — 
O I'm weary 
For my dearie 
From the mornin' to the night ! 

I'm weary 

For my dearie 
When the lark flies o'er the loam ; 

When the meadows 

Feel the shadows 
An' the cows come lowin' home — ■ 

O I'm weary 

For my dearie 
An' she's far away from home! 

lOO 



WEARY FOR HER 

I'm weary 

For my dearie 
When the hearthstone flickers bright ; 

When the lily 

Dews fall chilly 
An' the hollows hold the night — 

O I'm weary 

For my dearie 
An' her black eyes beamin' bright! 

So weary 

For you, dearie — 
An' you're hidin' from my sight — 

An' the blossom 

Seeks your bosom, 
An' the snow falls ghostly-white, 

Where you're sleepin' 

An' I'm weepin' 
From the mornin' to the night! 



lOI 



A SONG OF THANKS 

THANKFUL for strength in strife : 
For faith more steadfast than the stars 
above ; 
Thankful that life is life, 
And love is love. 

Thankful for homes, and herds 

That hide the hills ; for harvests ultimate ; 
For the sweet, prattling words 

Of children at the gate. 

For Hope's "Good-morning," and 

Faith's sweet "Good-night," when we are 
realmed in rest. 

Led by an unseen hand 
Safe to an unseen breast. 



I02 



THE SINGER CROWNED 

THE light came softly streaming 
The day the singer died ; 
They whispered, "He is dreaming;'* 
He lay so tranquil-eyed. 

No vision of Death's river 

Flashed on the waiting throng ; 

The pale lips seemed to quiver 
Still with Immortal song. 

And nations came and crowned him 
With laurels of their love ; 

The deathless glory round him 
Seemed like to that above. 

But greater than all glory 
Of worlds, or worlds to be, 

Was Love's last, sweetest story 
In Love's simplicity. 
103 



IS 



L 



THE SINGER CROWNED 

For to the singer, sleeping, 

Where none could heed or mark, 

A little child came creeping, 
With lilies in the dark. 

And 'mid the laurels gleaming, 
With trembling hands and fair, 

Laid them above his dreaming — 
Kissed them, and left them there. 



104 



THE SKY FOR YOU 

OTHE future sky is the bluest sky, 
With never a cloud in view; 
But the sky today is the truest sky, 
And that is the sky for you ! 

For the w^ork you have to do ; 
For the lives that lean on you ; 

Or gold, or gray, 

'Tis the sky today. 
And that is the sky for you ! 

There's a bird that sings to the future sky, 
Where the blossoms drip with dew; 

But the bird today makes the song of May, 
And that is the song for you ! 

For the work you have to do ; 
For the hearts that cling to you, 

'Tis the sweetest song 

As it thrills along. 
And that is the song for you. 

105 



GOING HOME TO MARY 

BIRDS seemed singing all the way 
Going home to Mary ; 
Roses on a winter's day, 

Going home to Mary. 
I can hear my heart beat time 
With the bells that sweetly chime ; 
Happiest man that lives when I'm 
Going home to Mary ! 

Far away her smile I see, 

Going home to Mary ; 
How it lights the way for me. 

Going home to Mary ! 
There, in groves where nests the dove, 
In a cot with blooms above, 
Still she lights the lamp o' love — 

Going home to Mary ! 
1 06 



GOING HOME TO MARY 

Down the walk come pattering feet, 
Going home to Mary ! 

Children's arms and kisses sweet, 
Going home to Mary ! 

Rob' comes climbing to my knee, 

Katie wants a kiss from me ; 
■'Loves me all the world," says she,— 
Home with love and Mary. 

Shine the lights forever more, 
Going home to Mary ! 
Love still leads me to the door, 

Going home to Mary! 
For her sake my toil is sweet, 
For her sake my heart'll beat 
Till it's dust beneath her feet — 
Going home to Mary ! 



107 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

WHEN our sweet Mary run away 
(It's fifteen year this Christmas Day) 
An' married, 'peared like William, he, 
Would lose his mind etarnally! 
Fer he wuz sot ag'in it so — 
Our Mary marryin' of yoe^ 
Dave Spinks' boy, he up an' said 
He'd almos' ruther see her dead 
An' buried! Fer that Joe, he jest 
Outdone the patience of the best. 
No larnin' ; head as hard as wood ; 
An' what some folks would call "no good.*' 
But gals is strange ; an' Mary, she, 
Somehow, could alius git 'roun' me. 
When I'd say "No!" her blue eyes jes' 
Looked right in mine an' twinkled "Yes!" 
So when the corn wuz to be groun' — 
On days when William warn't aroun' — 
I08 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

Here'd come that Joe from Spinks' place, 
A-sparkin* Mary 'fore my face! 

But once he come too frequent ; 'peared 
To like the risk: said he warn't 'feared 
Of William ketchin' him. But — my! 
Jest in the twinklin' of a eye 
We heard a footstep in the hall, 
An' William come an' — ketched us all! 
I rickollect it jest as well 
As ef 'twuz yesterday. . . . Hearn tell 
Of people "mad as thunder" ? Shoo! 
William wuz thunder' n' lightnin', too! 
He looked at me, he looked at Mary, 
An' we — we kinder looked contrary. 
An' then I poked the fire to jest 
Give my scart eyes a chance to rest! 

Then William sorter started back — 
Wheeled 'roun' an' reached up to the rack 
An' got his rifle ! raised it — cocked 
The trigger, an' the door thar — locked! 
109 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

Mary an' me a-screamin' ; Joe — 
None of us ever 'peared to know 
Jest how he did ; but in a flash 
Joe went out by the winder-sash, 
An' took it with him — shore as fate ! 
Likewise ten palin's an' t\iQ gate! 
An' with all that encumberence 
Cl'ared a big ditch an' ten-rail fence! 

Not much was said when Joe wuz gone 
The night — it went a-wearin' on, 
With me not raisin' of my head, 
An' Mary hidin' out in bed. 
An' fer two days — or mebbe three — 
William, he never speaks to me; 
An' when he did, 'twuz jest to say, 
Ef once more that chap crost his way 
He'd cheat the gallus; an' went on 
Jest thataway. But Joe wuz gone 
Fer good, an' like a man of sense, 
William went fixin' up his fence 
An' winder-sash. 

no 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

But one dark night, 
When William wuz a-sleepin' right 
An' dreamin' pleasant dreams, I hears 
A noise outside, then, creakin' stairs; 
An' I wakes William, but — too late ! 
The door stood open, an' the gate 
Had been swung to 'fore he got down. 
An' Joe an' Mary gone to town! 
I knowed they'd fotched us all to taw. 
An' William wuz Joe's father-in-law! 

No use to talk 'bout William ! He 

Wuz mad, an' had a right to be ; 

An' so wuz I. But while I cried, 

William was at the station : tried 

To stop 'em all by telegraph — 

Spent 'bout two dollars an' a half — 

When word came they wuz married, shore I 

*'I'll never see her face no more!" 

Said William. 

Fer about a year 
He went on like he didn't care 
III 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

To hear a word of her. When she 
Would write long letters home to me, 
An' ask ef she could come ; an tell 
How Joe wuz doin' mighty well — 
Had bought a house an' lot o' Ian' 
On this here new instalment plan, 
An' wuz a different kind of Joe 
From the old one we use to know — 
He'd take no int'rust — never read 
A letter; not one word he said. 
But one thing give me hope, fer he 
Would alius listen patiently. 

But when two year had passed (believe 
It happened on a Christmas Eve — 
Course, I^ d seen Mary in that time, 
And give her baby many a dime!) 
We sot one night — a lonesome pair — 
In sight o' Mary's vacant chair. 
An' oh! so lonesome 'peared the place, 
The tears come tricklin' down my face. 



1X3 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

Then William, he reached over an' 
Smoothed back my hair, an' took my han', 
An' said: "Ef Mary'd come tonight, 
I reckon it would be all right: 
I^m feelin' lonesome, too!" 

I'm one 
That b'lieves in Providence, an' none 
Kin shake my faith. He hadn't said 
Them words before I raised my head, 
Heard feet outside, clost by the door; 
An' then a voice we'd hearn before! 
An' then, two voices ; then a knock — 
Not loud. . . . The key turned in the lock. 
The door wuz opened wide, an* oh ! 
Thar stood our Mary an' her Joe, 
An' that sweet baby on her breast ! 
Is't any use to tell the rest — 
How Mary said, "Kin we come in?" 
An' William, "You jest bet you kin!" 
How the child crowed and 'peared to be 
A-reachin' fer the arms o' me ! 

8 .13 



A PROVIDENTIAL CHRISTMAS 

An' William sorter squared his jaw, 
Then laughed, an' called Joe son-in-law ! 
An' kissed the baby, an' jumped 'roun' 
Like he'd been lost, an' jest wuz found ! 

Been many a merry Christmas sence, 
But that wuz special Providence ! 



»H 



A RAINY DAY 



WOMEN likes a rainy clay — suits 'em to a "t" ; 
Men-folks set aroun' an' growl, mis'bul as kin be ; 
It's women's time fer rumagin' in chists an' trunks an' 

things ; 
Fer readin' old love letters an' foolin' with old rings. 



I sometimes watch Maria when the groun's been wet a 

spell, 
An' the rain is fallin' lonesome, an' nobody's feelin' 

well; 
How she bustles roun' as busy as a bumble-bee an' 

takes 
The pictur's down an' dusts 'em till a feller has the 

shakes ! 



A RAINY DAY 

An' the old chist inside out'ards — quilts an' patches on 

the floor; 
An' the letters what I writ her, — spellin' through 'em 

all once more ; 
An* she smiles while she's a-readin', an' sometimes 

you'll see a tear 
A-fallin' on the paper that she's kep' fer twenty year! 

An' then I've got to comfort her, an' so I makes a 

show. 
An' tells her it's the rainy day what hurts her feelin's so ; 
An' jest one tvord — it starts her on the biggest kind of 

cry, 
Till I almos' wish thar'd never been no happy days 

gone by! 

That's how the weather does 'em — these women! 

Never saw 
A fine, sunshiny day but they was layin' down the law. 
But rainy days is women's time fer lookin' over things, 
Fer readin' old love letters and foolin' with old rings. 



ii6 



M' 



TAKING THE BABY'S PICTURE 

I 
OLLY, she made it up that she — 
Seein' the baby had jest turned three 
Months — an' maybe a day or two — 
An' 'twuz 'bout decided his eyes wuz blue 
An' all o' the hair that he had wuz red 
An' startin' to blossom roun' his head; 
Molly, she made it up that she 
Would take the baby, the gals an' me, 
An' have the little one's pictur' took 
To have at home in the album book. 

II 

That warn't much to decide, but wait — 
Thar's trouble comin', an' lots to state! 
Fer, though the baby enjoyed the ride — 
Rocked in the wagon, from side to side. 
An' never a time on the journey cried, 

117 



TAKING THE BABY S PICTURE 

When we sot him down in the pictur' tent — 
Whar they made tintypes fer the settlement, 
'Twuz a change surprisin' he underwent! 
Fer when he seen that contraption tall, 
What takes yer face, an' yer clothes an' all, 
P'inted at him, he give a squall 
(His mother holdin' — fer fear he'd fall) 
An' they couldn't git him that time at all ! 

Ill 
Then the man — he held up a dollar bright. 
An' says: ''Look here! — Now we'll git him right!" 
An' the baby opened his mouth so wide 
It 'peared like the dollar would drap inside ! 
But the man kept holdin' it fur away — 
The baby laughin', an' in fer play; 
'An' now," he hollered, "we'll git him shore!" 
An' p'inted that thing at his face once more. 
Lordy! it wuzn't no use at all! 
It took his mother — the gals, an' all 
To hold him still in the high old chair — 
Kickin' an' screamin' ! . . . They called him "Dear," 
ii8 



TAKING THE BABY's PICTURE 

An' "Honey," an' "Purty;" but 'twarn't no use 
He kept on yellin', an' jest kicked loose! 

IV 

How many times that feller tried 
To git that baby, I can't decide! 
He give him candy — a rattle — more 
Things than they keep in a Christmas store ! 
An' lost six hours, he said; an' then 
He was one o' the maddest o' pictur' men ! 
An' he says to the mother: "Ef I wuz you 
I'd strop that baby — that's what I'd do! 
Fer he's 'bout the worst that I ever seen — 
With a temper p'intedly bad an' mean! 
An' now," says he, "you have got to pay 
Fer all o' the time that I lost today!" 
An' went on talkin' jest thataway. 

Well, the mother, she fell to cryin', an' 
Told him he warn't much of a man 



119 



TAKING THE BABY's PICTURE 

To talk that way o' the sweetest one 

An' purtiest baby under the sun ! 

An' she wuz sart'in he didn't have none! 

Then, I chipped in — fer she kept on cryin' — 

An' said: "That young'un, old boy, is mine!" 

An' then we clinched ! . . . an' we fit an' font 

Fer half a hour, or nigh about — 

Till the pictur' man wuz knocked clean out ! 

An' the baby's pictur' wuz never took 
To keep at home in the album book ! 



1 20 



A HAPPY FELLOW 

HE wuz the happiest feller alive: 
Don't keer how trouble would try him ; 
Lovin' his brothers 
An' doin' to others 

Jest like he'd have 'em do by him. 

Summer or winter — he still wuz content: 
Don't keer how corn wuz a-sellin' — 

Wheat tumblin' over 

An' "corners" on clover — 

Trouble kep' cl'ar of his dwellin' ! 

Sunshine or cyclones, it still wuz the same — 

Never wuz rattled a minute ; 
Take all his money, 
An' skies wuz still sunny; 

"Providence — providence in it!*' 

121 



A HAPPY FELLOW 

That wuz his sayin', no matter what come, 
And when, with the love of a brother, 

That never counts loss, 

Wants no crown fer a cross — 

He laid down his life fer another, — 

He jest sorter smiled 'fore his spirit took flight 
To heaven (ain't no better man in it !), 

Went under the rod 

With them last words: "Thank God ! 
Providence — providence in it!" 



122 



THIS WORLD 

THIS world that we're a-livin' in 
Is mighty hard to beat ; 
You git a thorn with every rose, 
But ain't the roses sweet I 



123 



T 



THE CHRISTMAS FIDDLE 

*HAR'S somethin' In a fiddle's sound that somehow 
shakes an' fills 
My soul with sweeter music than the song of whippoor- 

wills, 
Or the wild notes of the mockin' bird when spring is in 

her prime, 
But best of all I loves 'em when they're play in' Christ- 
mas time ! 

When the cabin fires air blazin' an' the holly-berries red 
With temptin' twigs of mistletoe air hangin' overhead ; 
When a feller's eyes air chasin' of the dimples of the 

An' he's lost his way forever in the tangle of their curls. 

Then I likes to hear the fiddle, for it's most uncommon 

sweet ; 
Thar's a twinkle in my eyes then an* a fidget in my feet ; 

124 



THE CHRISTMAS FIDDLE 

When the gyrls air gittin' ready fer the dancin', soon 

to be, 
It's halleluiah season to the very soul of me! 

When I see the old-time fiddler who's heard the fiddle 

sing 
Fer many a frosty winter — in summer time, in spring, 
Lay by his coat an' strike a note, it's "Brethren, bar the 

door!" 
Fer I know that trouble's comin' on that cabin's sandy 

floor! 

W^hen I hear that : "Swing your partners ! " — they know 

whar /'// be foun' — 
My arms jest full of sweetness an' the room a-goin' 

roun' ! 

An', "Ladies to the center ! " an' "Han's roun' !" thafW 

do! 
Fer a gyrl's ban's mighty tender when she's holdin' 

ban's with you ! 

The heavy hail kin patter on the shingle roof on high ; 
The snow kin beat the snowbirds from their cradles 
clost the sky, 

1-5 



THE CHRISTMAS FIDDLE 

The cows kin miss the clover on the hillside fur an' free, 
But in joy I'm rollin' over when the fiddle sings to me! 

But it's alius sweeter, sweeter when the holly's hangin' 

high 
An' the Christmas lamps air lighted in the winders of 

the sky; 
An' I think ef I wuz dyin' I would still be feelin' prime 
As the liveliest angel flyin', with a fiddle Christmas 

time! 



126 



T 



TEN ACRES FOR HIM 

'ALK erbout this here country "goin' to ruin" — 

why, 
You might as well say that the Lord's away from the 

bend o' the big blue sky! 
It's still the same ole country — the biggest one an' the 

best; 
An* I'm willin' to take ten acres an' trust the Lord fer 

the rest! 

Never no reason in it — "goin' to ruin!" see! — 

The sun climbs up from the hills an' says "Good morn- 

in' " to you an' me, 
An' a sweet "good night" when he's goin' to the west 

whar the shadders stay, 
An' somethin' that sorter whispers: "I'll see you at 

break o' day!" 

127 



TEN ACRES FOR HIM 

Never no reason in it! I'm willin' to take my chance ; 
You'd better git out the supper things — the gals air 

comin' to dance. 
Talk 'bout "goin' to ruin" — we're happy from east to 

west, 
An' I'm willin' to take ten acres an' trust the Lord fcr 

the rest! 



IZS 



THE LITTLE ONE 

I AIN'T af eared on Death to look — on the Ian', or the 
fur-off sea ; 
Fer Death once come to my home an' took a little one 

off from me ; 
An' thar wuzn't a smile for a lonesome while in the 

home whar she use to be, — 
I ain't afeared o' Death sence he took a little one off 
from me ! 

6"^^ wuzn't afeared! . . . fer day by day — still, on the 

mother's breast, 
Uncomplainin' she went away, — we whisperin' : "God 

knows best!" 
Never a word from her lips wuz heard as the days an' 

the nights went on — 
Only the arms roun' the mother after the soul wuz gone ! 

I reckon it's right, but somehow I'm alius wantin' to 

know 
Jest why the good Lord took her from the ones that 
loved her so? 
9 129 



THE LITTLE ONE 

Minister says: '* 'Twuz to bring us all close in the 

Master's keep;" 
But for her I'd take my chances out with the poor, lost 

sheep ! 

Ef I only knowed she wuz livin' — thar, whar she use 

to be — 
Ef only she had the daylight, an' the darkness come on 

me! 
Ef only, when the shadders come up from the cloudin' 

west, 
I could hear the mother callin' her home, an' rockin' 

her still to rest ! 

But she's gone the way that we all must go, an' the 

mother an' me must moan ; 
She wuz sich a leetle bit of a thing to go in the dark 

alo7te ! 
But sweet, an' uncomplainin' she lived her happy day 
An' I ain't af eared on Death to look sence the little one 

went that way ! 



130 



A KNOW-NOTHING FELLOW 

THE harvest winds air sweeping over valleys cool 
an' deep ; 
The fields air ripe fer reapin', but — I dunno how to 

reap! 
The hay is stacked an' ready — the teamsters look alive ; 
The mules air puUin' steady, but — I dunno how to drive ! 
Jest stand idle 

By the fiel' an' hill ; 
Dunno nothin', 
An' I never will ! 

Fiddle's jest a-goin', an' they tell me it's my chance; 
Gals air mighty purty, but — I dunno how to dance ! 
Comin' to the doorway — axin' of me in, 
Wantin' me to marry, but — I dunno how I kin! 
Jest stand idle 

By the fiel' an' hill; 
Dunno nothin', 
An' I never will ! 



A KNOW-NOTHING FELLOW 

Folks — they take an' tell me that they never seen the 

like! 
Never ever in the way when lightnin's goin' to strike ; 
Say the time is flyin' while I'm a-standin' by ; 
Do much better dyin' , but — I dunno how to die ! 
Jest keep loafin' 

By the fiel' an' hill ; 
Dunno nothin*, 
An' I never will ! 



132 



HOW I SPOKE THE WORD 

THE snow come down in sheets of white 
An' made the pine trees shiver; 
'Peared like the world had said good-night 
An' crawled beneath the kiver. 

The river's shiny trail wuz gone — 
The winds sung out a warnin' ; 

The mountains put their nightcaps on 
An' said: "Good-by till mornin'!" 

'Twuz jest the night in fiel' an' wood 

When cabin homes look cozy, 
An' fine oak fires feel mighty good, 

An' women's cheeks look rosy. 

An' that remin's me. We wuz four, 

A-settin' by the fire ; 
But still it 'peared ten mile or more 

Betwixt me an' Maria ! 



HOW I SPOKE THE WORD 

The old man — he wuz readin', at 

The middle, nigh the mother; 
An' from two corners, 'crost the cat, 

We jest looked at each other. 

An* though Maria said no word, 

Each bright eye, like a rover, 
Kep' talkin', till I sorter heard: 

"Speak, John, an' have it over!" 

An' then I speaks ! I give a cough, 

(The way we all begin it ! ) 
Then reeled the English langwidge off 

At 'bout a mile a minute! 

"I've got some feelin's to express," 
I said, "about Maria!" 
(The old man eyed me, then said: "Yes; 
She's most too nigh the fire!") 

"I don't mean fire," I floundered on 
(He shet the dog-eared pages), 

"I thought I'd ax — " He stopped me: "John, 
You want a raise in wages?" 
134 



HOW I SPOKE THE WORD 

"No, sir!" (I caught that eye of his, 

An' then I fit an' floundered ! ) 
"The thing I want to tell you is — " 

Says he: "The old vcidiYe^s founder edP'^ 

"No, sir! it ain't about no hoss!" 

(My throat begin to rattle!) 
"I see," he said, "another loss 

In them fine Jersey cattle!" 

An' then I lost my patience ! Then 

I hollered high and higher 
(You could 'a heard me down the glen) : 

''No, sir! I want Maria ! ' ' 

"An' now," says I, "the shaft'll strike: 
He'll let that statement stay so ! " 
He looked at me astonished-like, 

Then yelled: " Why didn't you say so?'^ 



135 



THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL 

DID ever you hear of the Mulligan ball — the Mulli- 
gan ball so fine, 
Where we formed in ranks, and danced on planks, and 

swung 'em along the line? 
Where the first Four Hundred of the town moved at 

the music's call? 
There was never a ball in the world at all — like the 
famous Mulligan ball ! 

Town was a bit of a village then and never a house or 

shed 
From street to street and beat to beat was higher than 

Mulligan's head ! 
And never a theater troup came round to 'liven us 

spring or fall. 
And so Mulligan's wife she says, says she: "Plaze 

God, I'll give a ball!" 
136 



THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL 

And she did — God rest her, and save her, too ! (I'm 

liftin' to her my hat !) 
And never a ball at all, at all, w^as half as fine as that ! 
Never no invitations sent — nothin' like that at all ; 
But the v^hole Four Hundred combed their hair and 

w^ent to the Mulligan ball. 

And *'Take yer places !" says Mulligan, ''an* dance 

till you shake the wall !" 
And I led Mrs. Mulligan off as the lady that gave the 

ball; 
And we whirled around till we shook the ground, with 

never a stop at all ; 
And I kicked the heels from my boots — please God — 

at the famous Mulligan ball. 

Mulligan jumped till he hit the roof, and the head of 

him went clean through it ! 
The shingles fell on the floor pell-mell ! Says Mulligan : 

''Faith, I knew it!'' 



137 



THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL 

But we kept right on when the roof was gone, with 

never a break at all ; 
We danced away till the break o' day at the famous 

Mulligan ball. 

But the best of things must pass away like the flowers 
that fade and fall, 

And it's fifty years, as the records say, since we danced 
at Mulligan's ball ; 

And the new Four Hundred never dance like the Mulli- 
gans danced — at all, 

And I'm longing still, though my hair is gray, for a ball 
like Mulligan's ball! 

And I drift in dreams to the old-time town, and I hear 

the fiddle sing; 
And Mulligan sashays up and down till the rafters rock 

and ring! 
Suppose, if I had a woman*s eyes, maybe a tear would 

fall 
For the old-time fellows who took the prize at the 

famous Mulligan ball ! 

138 



SWEET LITTLE WOMAN OF MINE 

SHE ain't any bit of a angel — 
This sweet little woman o' mine ; 
She's jest a plain woman, 
An' purty much human — 

This sweet little woman o' mine. 

Fer what would I do with a angel 

When I looked for the firelight's shine? 

When six little sinners 

Air wantin' their dinners ? 

No ! Give me this woman o' mine! 

I've hearn lots o' women called "angels," 
An' lots o' 'em thought it wuz fine ; 

But give 'em the feathers. 

An' me, in all weathers. 

This sweet little woman o' mine. 

I jest ain't got nuthin' agin 'em — 

These angels — they're good in their line, 

But they're sorter above me ! 

Thank God that she'll love me — 
This dear little woman o' mine. 

139 



ACCORDING TO JOHN 

MY John — he ain't rollin' in riches, 
But he's mine when his money is gone ; 
An' I tell him my sweetest religion 
Is the gospel accordin' to John. 

His han's they air hard with the toilin', 
He's up with the lark o' the dawn; 

But I cheer him along with my singin' — 
The songs o' the gospel o' John ! 

An' still in the joy an' the sorrow 
While the sunset o' life's comin' on, 

My dearest an' sweetest religion 
Is the gospel accordin' to John ! 



140 



WHY THE WEDDING WAITS 

1 SORTER thought I'd speak my mind next time I 
went to see 
Elviry, but — they'll never make a orator of me ! 
Fer ever' time I struck a word I'd sorter choke an' 

cough, 
An' that's why I can't tell you when the weddin's 
comin' off! 

I looked at her a-settin' by the fire blazin' bright — 
Her cheeks like two red roses an' her eyes like lakes o' 

light, 
An' I think I said 'twuz snowin' — kinder keerless like 

an' free, — 
An' that's why I can't tell you when the weddin' is to 

be! 

HI 



WHY THE WEDDING WAITS 

The quiet — it got painful ; you could hear a feather 

fall; 
We wuz 'bout as interestin* as the shadders on the wall ; 
But last I said: "Elviry !" an' she turned an' looked 

at me, 
An' that's why I can't tell you when the weddin' is to 

be! 

I'm good at campaign speeches, an' I alius win my 

race ; 
Kin speak my mind in meetin' an' sing "Amazin' 

Grace !" 
But when Elviry' s by my side I lose my pedigree, 
An' that's why I can't tell you when the weddin' is to 

be! 

If women didn't look so sweet, an' didn't keep so still, 
P'r'aps 'twould come as easy as rollin' down a hill; 
But when I say: "Elviry!" she's shore to look at me. 
An' that's why I can't tell you when the weddin' is to 
be! 



142 



THIRTY YEARS AFTER 

BEEN thirty year sence the fightin' — though it don't 
seem long as that 
Sence I follered "Stonewall" Jackson, with nary shoe 

or hat, 
Through the valleys o' Virginny an' ev'rywhar' else he 

went — 
Thirty year sence I got back home to the burnt-out 
settlement. 



But the world, it's been a-movin', fer I am a-gittin' 

An' still, somehow, when I look around \feel it slippin' 

away; 
The roses come in the spring-time — the frost is shore 

in the fall, 
But still it seems to a old man's dreams like thar warn't 

no war at all. 

H3 



THIRTY YEARS AFTER 

A change is come to the country ; the fields whar I use 

to plow 
Is paved with stone, an' the steeples is risin' above 'em 

now; 
The woods whar I went a-huntin' is roarin' with noisy 

crowds, 
An' the lakes whar I done my fishin' is gone clean up 

in the clouds. 

Oh, the country, it's a-movin', an' 'pears to be movin' 

right; 
Thar's a brighter sun in the daytime, an' lots more 

stars by night ; 
The people's a-comin' closer, an' larnin' the Golden 

Rule- 
Lots o' the women votin' an' the niggers goin' to school. 

Whenever I git to thinkin' — as I do think — o' the war, 
A-tryin' constant to figger out the things we was fightin' 

fer, 
I kinder decide it was Providence a-workin' its wisest 

ends — 
Purify in* through fire an' makin' us better friends. 

144 



THIRTY YEARS AFTER 

I think we're a-doin' better than we done 'fore the 

trouble come ; 
Got use' to the stars an' stripes once more an' done 

beat sense in the drum ! 
I've danced to "Yankee Doodle" on the mountain an' 

the plain, 
An' I've heerd 'em cheerin' "Dixie" from Texas clean 

to Maine ! 

Old things is changed in a twinklin* — it's hard to on- 

ravel how^ 
But, north an' south, under one old flag they're 

"Marchin' through Georgy" now; 
An' I'm glad I lived to see it, an' spite o' my years 

I'm bound 
Ef I don't jest feel, from head to heel, like shakin' hands 

all round ! 



lo 145 



THE FLAG OF OUR COUNTRY 

SHE'S up there — Old Glory — she's wavmg o'erhead ; 
She dazzles the nations with ripples of red, 
And she'll wave for us living, or droop o'er us dead — 
She's the flag of our country forever ! 

She's up there — Old Glory — no tyrant-dealt scars, 
No blur on her brightness — no stain on her stars ; 
The brave blood of heroes hath crimsoned her bars — 
She's the flag of our country forever! 



{46 



THE FIGHT 

OTHE glory and the story of the fight, 
The dashing of the war steeds in the strifc- 
The charge, and the retreat, 
And the flag the winding sheet 

Of faces staring starward from the strife — 

Lost to life. 

And the wailing of the mother and the wife ! 

O the glory and the story of the fight ! 

The leaving for the battleground of Fate — 
With glory for the goal, 
Where the cannon thunders roll, 

And kisses for the woman at the gate, 

Who shall wait 

For the unreturning footsteps, long and late ! . 



■47 



THE WARSHIP DIXIE 

THEY'VE named a cruiser "Dixie" — that's what 
the papers say — 
An* I hears they're goin' to man her with the boys that 

wore the gray ; 
Good news ! It sorter thrills me and makes me want 

to be 
Whar the band is playin' "Dixie" an' the "Dixie" puts 
to sea. 

They've named a cruiser "Dixie," an', fellers, I'll be 

boun' 
You're goin' to see some fightin' when the "Dixie" 

swings eroun' ! 
Ef any o' them Spanish ships'll strike her east or west. 
Jest let the ban' play "Dixie" an' the boys'll do the 

rest ! 

148 



THE WARSHIP DIXIE 

I want to see that "Dixie" — I want to take my stan' 
On the deck of her, an' holler; "Three cheers for Dixie 

Ian' !" 
She means we're all united — the war hurts healed away, 
An' "Way Down South in Dixie" is national to-day ! 

I bet she's a good 'un ! I'll stake my last red cent 
Thar ain't no better timber in the whole blamed settle- 
ment ! 
An' all their shiny battleships beside that ship are tame, 
Fer, when it comes to "Dixie," thar's somethin' in a 
name ! 

Here's three cheers an* a tiger — as hearty as kin be. 
An' let the ban' play "Dixie" when the "Dixie" puts 

to sea ! 
She'll make her way an' win the day from shinin' east 

to west — 
Jest let the ban' play "Dixie" an' the boys'll do the 

rest! 



149 



THE BILLVILLE DEBATE 

BRETHERIN had a meetin' — jest as lively as could 
be; 
Subject for discussion: "Is Salvation Really Free?" 
Fer the rival meetin' houses talked it out from dark to 

dav^n, 
That they'd save the Presbyterians, but — the Methodists 
wuz gone ! 

The Baptists said 'twuz sartin as the mornin' follered 

night 
That they had the road to glory an' wuz runnin' of it 

right; 
An' the proud Episcopalians said the thing wuz plain 

as day 
That they'd have to take the gospel the Episcopalian 

way! 



THE BILLVILLE DEBATE 

The Methodists was 'mong 'em an' holdin' to their 

place, 
An' stickin' to their privilege of fallin' 'way from grace ; 
An' so, they met together, jest as earnest as could be, 
To settle that big question: "Is Salvation Really Free?" 

They talked from dark to day-time — they shouted out 

their views ; 
They made the pulpit trimble — ripped the rallin' off the 

pews ; 
But they come to no decision till a preacher says, says 

he: 
"It's sartin, in this neighborhood, salvation's really free ! 

"An' I'll prove it! Come up, brethren, till you're all 

in hearin' reach : 
Jest tell me whar's that salary you promised me to 

preach ? 
You've been feedin' on the gospel till the souls of you 

are fat, 
An' the preacher's coat is threadbare an' the wind 

howls through his hat! 



THE BILLVILLE DEBATE 

*'You listen to the sarmont, but the whole contented 
crowd, 

When we takes up a collection, are a-snorin' long and 
loud! 

Can't hear the hymn we're singin' — the basket never see. 

An' it's my onbiased jedgment that you've got salva- 
tion free!" 

The Presbyterian preacher said he'd sign his name to 

that; 
The Baptists said 'twuz sartin that the brother had it 

pat! 
The Episcopalians j'ined him thar: 'Twuz plain as 

plain could be 
The people in that neighborhood had got salvation free ! 

One man laid down a dollar ; another one give five ; 

Then tens an' twenties fluttered till the meetin' looked 
alive I 

An' the last seen of the preachers — they wuz jottin' 
down their notes 

An' havin' of their measures took fer bran new broad- 
cloth coats! 

152 



w 



THE VETERANS 

E met at Chickamauga. I hadn't seen him since 
We looked across the trenches and his bullet 
made me wince ; 
But we both shook hands in friendship, as hearty as 

could be, 
Though he had marched with Sherman and T had 
marched with Lee. 

We walked across the battlefield where once the bullets 
flew, 

And the green and bending grasses felt the fall of crim- 
son dew, 

And we talked the whole thing over where the flag was 
waving free 

How he had marched with Sherman and I had served 
with Lee. 



THE VETERANS 

The drums had ceased then* beating. We saw no sabers 

shine, 
The hair about his forehead fell as snowy white as mine, 
And voices seemed to call us o'er the far, eternal sea, 
Where the men who marched with Sherman are in 

camp with those of Lee. 

We parted ; eyes grew misty, for we knew that never- 
more, 

Would we meet until the roll-call on the other peaceful 
shore. 

But both shook hands in friendship as hearty as could be. 

Though he had marched with Sherman and I had fought 
with Lee. 



154 



A SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER 

YES, sir, I fought with Stonewall, 
And faced the fight with Lee ; 
But if this here Union goes to war. 

Make one more gun for me ! 
I didn't shrink from Sherman 
As he galloped to the sea ; 
But if this here Union goes to war, 
Make one more gun for me ! 

I was with 'em at Manassas — 

The bully boys in gray ; 
I heard the thunders roarin' 

Round Stonewall Jackson's way; 
And many a time this sword of mine 

Has blazed the route for Lee, 
But if this old Union goes to war. 

Make one more gun for me ! 



A SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER 

I'm not so full o' fightin' 

Nor half so full o' fun 
As I was back in the sixties 

When I shouldered my old gun. 
It may be that my hair is white 

(Such things, you know, must be). 
But if this old Union's in for fight. 

Make one more gun for me ! 

I hain't forgot my raisin', 

Nor how, in sixty-two 
Or thereabouts, with battle shouts, 

I charged the boys in blue ; 
And I say, I fought with Stonewall 

And blazed the way with Lee, 
But if this old Union's in for war, 

Make one more gun for me ! 



56 



OLD "BOB WHITE" 

WHEN peas is ripe you hear the call : 
"Bob White!" 
In music sweet the clear notes fall : 

"Bob White!" 
(He wants to let his sweetheart know — 
That's why he keeps a-callin' so.) 

Acrost the medder an' the swamp : 

"Bob White!" 
From woodlands where the rabbits romp; 

"Bob White!" 
Still, still he calls that name o' his 
(I wonder where his sweetheart is?) 

From dewy mornin' up to night: 

"Bob White!" 
An' ringin' down the sweet twilight: 

"Bob White!" 
From break o' day to evenin' dim, 
He calls his sweetheart home to him ! 



PRAYIN' FOR RAIN 

NEVER seen weather so powerful dry — 
Burnt up the hill an' the plain ; 
An' I says to the deacon: "We'll perish," says I; 

"We'd better be prayin' for rain." 
An' "You're right," says the deacon, an' so we got 

down 
An' soon had 'em prayin' all over the town! 

They prayed before breakfas', petitioned at noon: 
"Good Lord, sen' the rain, sen' the rain! 

We hain't had a drap sence the middle o' June — 
The dry drought has ruint the grain. 

The hills are on fire, an' the heat up on high 

Is makin' big cracks in the blue o' the sky!" 

They prayed in the mornin' and hollered all night. 

Till at last come the ghost of a cloud — 
A rollin' o' thunder — a flashin' o' light. 

An' the big rain all over the crowd ! 
It swelled up the rivers, it deluged the town — 
An' still the mad angels kep' flingin' it down! 



PRAYIN FOR RAIN 

Never seen weather so powerful wet ! 

Ruint the corn an' the rye; 
An' I says to the deacon: "We're sufferin' yet, 

We'd better be prayin' fer dry !" 
An' "You're right," says the deacon; an' so we got 

down, 
An' soon had 'em prayin' all over the town! 



59 



THE RATTLESNAKE'S SONG 

I PAUSE to sew a button on 
In some dim swamp or dell, 
And when it's time for breakfast 

I ring my rattle-bell. 
My glance is keen and killing — 

It charms them north and south ; 
The birds o' May — they lose their way 
And hop into my mouth ! 
Zip ! Zoon ! 
That's the tune 
That charms 'em in the woods o' June ! 

The hounds that bay the woodlands 
Where wild the hunters tread, 

Beware my den, in swamp or glen, 
Or 'neath my fangs fall dead | 
1 60 



THE RATTLESNAKE S SONG 

For, zip ! I am upon them, 

Even while my rattle rings ; 
Swift as a flash where thunders crash, 
Or as the panther springs. 
Zip ! Zoon ! 
That's the tune 
That charms 'em in the woods o' June ! 

Yet wary am I of the world : 

I lowly make my bed, 
And there I hide me, coiled and curled- 

A price upon my head ; 
And who shall slay me praise shall win: 

But who shall dare to tread 
Where low I lie, with watchful eye. 

Nor 'neath my fangs fall dead? 
Zip! Zoon! 
That's the tune 
That charms *em in the woods o' June! 



II i6i 



* 'LITTLE TIN HO'N" 

?nnWUZ a year ago, on a Chris'mus mo'n, 

1 Dat we hearn him blow en blow; 
En' his mammy call him, "Little Tin Ho'n"- 

Chrismus, a year ago. 
His mammy — she name him so, 
Fer de music what he blow; 

He wuz all she had, 

En hit des too bad 
Dat he out dar, under de snow ! 

We des sot by on dat Chris'mus mo'n 

Fer ter heah him blow en blow ; 
En I never knowed dat a little tin ho*n 

Could stir up de feelin's so! 
But somehow, I 'peared ter know 
Dat him en de ho'n would go. 

He wuz all we had, 

En hit des too bad 
Dat he out dar, under de snow ! 
162 



*' LITTLE TIN HO'n '* 

En de Chris' mus come w'en de Christ wuz bo'n, 

En de Chris'miis bugles blow; 
But day's nuttin' sweet ez de little Tin Ho'n 

Dat lef us a year ago. 
Nuttin' so sweet, I know, 
Ez de music what he blow ; 

He wuz all we had. 

En hit des too bad 
Dat he out dar, under de snow ! 



163 



A LULLABY 

SICH a li'l' feller, en he settin' up so wise! 
Say he like his daddy, but he got his mammy's 
eyes; 
Angel tuck en drap him fum a winder in de skies — 
By-bye, honey, twell de mawnin'. 

Sich a li'r feller, in de cunnin'es' er cloze! 
Say he love his daddy, but his mammy's what he knows ! 
Foun' him in de springtime, en dey tuck him fer a rose — 
By-bye, honey, twell de mawnin'. 

Sich a li'l' feller, en he talkin' like a man! 
By-bye, by-bye, kiss yo' li'l' han' ; 
Lots er li'T chillun in de sleepy Ian' — 

By-bye, honey, twell de mawnin*. 



164 



MISS NANCY 

OH, I wonder whar Miss Nancy gone, 
Fer de latch is on de do', 
En de sunflower say: 
"She gone dis way," 

En de sun don't shine no mo'. 

Oh, I wonder whar Miss Nancy gone, 
Fer de place look mighty still ; 

En de win', he say: 

"Ef she gone my way 

I'll find her, dat I will." 

Oh, I wonder whar Miss Nancy gone. 

While de shadders creep an' creep, 

En de w'ipperwill 

Fum crost de hill 

Say: "I'm singin' her ter sleep!" 

Oh, I wonder whar Miss Nancy gone, 
Fer de sun gone vis'tin', too; 

But de moonlight say: 

"Ef she cross my way, 

"I'll light her home to you I" 
165 



THE THRUSH SONG 

BROWN t'rush singin' in de woods fur off; 
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle-tink!" 
Dewdrap fallin' on de roseleaf sof ; 
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle-tink!" 
O little honey! 

Can't I coax you out? 
Is you got a lover 

You a-singin' erbout? 

Brown t'rush singin' whar de vines run 'cross; 

"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle-tink!" 
Wes' win' callin' fer de li'l' chile dat los' : 
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle-tink!" 
O little honey! 

Can't I coax you out? 
Er is you got a lover 

You a-singin' so erbout? 



1 66 



SWEET, MY HONEY 

SWEET, my honey, dry yo' eyes, 
When de rain come drappm' fum de lonesome 
skies ; 
De vvorl' git thirsty fer a drap er dew. 
En de sun gvvine kiss it ter a rose fer you! 
Sweet, my honey. 
It'll soon be sunny — 
Smile en dry yo' eyes ! 

Sweet, my honey, dry yo' eyes. 

When de stars done drownded in de rainy skies ; 

De sun des ridin' in a bend o' blue, 

En he'll kiss de rain draps ter a rose fer you. 

Sweet, my honey, 

It'll soon be sunny — 
Smile en dry yo' eyes ! 



167 



A SUMMER SONG 

DE river crawl erlong so slow — 
Wid not a word to say, 
Look lak he dunno whar ter go 
En sorter los' he way. 

Hot times in Georgia- 
Hot times, I say ; 

Green trees whar de furrow end- 
Chillun cl'ar de way! 

De co'n blades dusty ez kin be 

En want de rain ter come ; 
Dey ax de wind ter lef de tree 

En frolic wid 'em some. 

Hot times in Georgia — 

Hot times, I say ; 
Shade tree at de furrow end — 

Chillun cl'ar de way! 
1 68 



A SUMMER SONG 

De mockin' bird done fol' he wing 
En fly fum fiel' en plain; 

He say: " Hit des too hot ter sing; 
I wish dat raincrow'd rain!" 

Hot times in Georgia — 

Hot times, I say; 
Shade trees at de furrow end, 

Chillun cPar de way! 



169 



THE LOST BIRDS 

DE mockin' bird don fol' his wing 
En hide away fum fros' ; 
He des ain't got no heart ter sing, 
Kase all he chillun los'. 

Los' away 
En gone astray — 
En so he mo'nful night en day. 

He buir a stravv^ nes' fur away, 

In blossoms sof ' en deep ; 
En dar he tell he chillun stay, 

En sing 'em all ter sleep. 

But de Win' — he say: 
"Come, fly away!" 
En so he miss 'em night en day. 
170 



THE LOST BIRDS 



He look up at de big blue sky 
What change fum long ergo, 

En t'ink: He larn 'em how ter fly, 
En den — dey lef him so ! 

Los' away 
En gone astray — 
Dat why he mo'nful night en day. 

En so, he take en fol' he wing 

En hide away fum fros' ; 
He des ain't got no heart ter sing, 

Wid all he chillun los'. 

Los' away — 
Los' — los' away! 
En so, he mo'nful night en day. 



171 



RABBIT vSONG 

01 want you, Mr. Rabbit, ter lem me pass- 
Rabbit in de brier patch, 
Rabbit in de brier patch ; 
O I want you, Mr. Rabbit, ter lem me pass, 
Fer I ain't see my lover sence Sunday las', 
En I gittin' in de grass, O I gittin' in de grass — 
Lem me pass, Mr. Rabbit, lem me pass! 

O I want you, Mr. Rabbit, ter lem me pass — 

Rabbit in de brier patch, 

Rabbit in de brier patch ; 
O I want you, Mr. Rabbit, ter lem me pass, 
Fer de sun is a sinkin' en de dark comin' fas', 
En my lover lookin' purty in de biglookin' glass- 
Lem me pass, Mr. Rabbit, lem me pass ! 



172 



MISTER BLIZZARD 

MIST£:R blizzard, he come 'long, 
Say: "Dis country nice!" 
Shake de winder wid he song — 
Hang de house wid ice ! 

Oh, believer, 

Walk de slippeiy way ; 
De winter col' 
Freeze up yo' soul, 

But you'll git warm some day! 

Mister Blizzard puff en blow — 

Shake me 'twell I blue! 
Peepin' — creepin' in de do'— 

"Br'er, whar is you?" 

Oh, believer. 

Walk de slippery way ; 
De winter col' 
Freeze up yo' soul. 

But you'll git warm some day! 



MISTER BLIZZARD 

Mister Blizzard sling de sleet — 

Snow fall in de night ; 
Des so Afraid he'll pinch her feet 

Ole worl' tu'nin' white ! 

Oh, believer, 

Walk de slippery way ; 
De winter col' 
Freeze up yo' soul, 

But you'll git hot some day! 



174 



HIS DREAM-MONEY 

DE oP owl holler, en de ol' owl scream, 
En I wants dat money what I see in my 
dream ; 

Oh, my honey! 
I wants dat money — 
Dat money what I see in my dream! 

De graveyard rabbit by de ol' mill stream. 

En I wants dat money what I see in my dream ; 

Bless God, honey ! 

I wants dat money — 
Dat money what I see in my dream ! 

Ol' witch ridin' on de pale moonbeam, 

En I wants dat money what I see in my dream ; 

Bless God, honey ! 

I wants dat money — 
Dat money what I see in my dream ! 



175 



A PLANTATION DITTY 

DE gray owl sing fum de chimbly top : 
"Who — who — Is — ^you-oo ?" 
En I say: "Good Lawd, hit's des po' me, 
En I ain't quite ready fer de Jasper Sea ; 
I'm po' en sinful, en you 'lowed I'd be ; 
Oh, wait, good Lawd, 'twell ter-morrer!" 

De gray owl sing fum de cypress tree : 

' 'Who — who — is — ^you-oo ?" 
En I say: "Good Lawd, ef you look you'll see 
Hit ain't nobody but des po' me, 
En r like ter stay 'twell my time is free; 

Oh, wait, good Lawd, 'twell ter-morrer!" 



176 



A DOUBTER IN THE FOLD 

DE 'gator eat de sturgeon, 
De sturgeon eat de perch ; 
De perch, he take de minnow in : 
Now, how dat go in church ? 

De heathen say: "I hongry: 
Dey lef me in de lurch." 

He eat de missionary up : 
Now, how dat go in church ? 

It's trouble, trouble, trouble: 
You's mixed up on de way; 

I hopes de Lawd'll specify 

Dese t'ings on Jedgment Day! 



12 177 



MISS LUCY'S WAY 

DE Bee hum in de blossom vine, 
De Bird break out in song ; 
De Sun, he say: "I 'bleege ter shine,'* 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

O de bird break out in song 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

En de Red Rose say 

He'll lean her way, 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

De River stop w^har her footstep pass. 

Do' de tide run fas' en strong, 
En he say: "I'm heah fer yo' lookin' glass," 

Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 



I7§ 



MISS LUCY S WAY 

O de Bird break out in song 
W*en Miss Lucy pass erlong, 

En de River say 

''Hit's a holiday," 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

De Vi'let say: "I'm kin ter you, 
En you musn't treat me wrong;" 

En de green trees — dey bows "Howdy do!'' 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

O, de whole wor'd sing a song 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 

Hit sing en sing 

Fer de weddin' ring 
Wen Miss Lucy pass erlong. 



179 



MORNING SONG 

ODE Sun rise up at de break er day, 
En he shine twell de sky tu'n blue ; 
En de Sun he say: 
* 'Hit's a long, long way, 
En I got no time fer ter stop en play!" 
En he shine all day, he shine all day, 
For he don't sleep late lak' you ! 

O de Sun he rise at de break er day. 
En de stars say: "Howdy do !" 

But de Sun he say: 

"You must cl'ar de way; 

Fer I'm on my road, en I des can't stay; 

My task is took fer ter shine all day, 
Fer I don't sleep late lak' you!" 



:8o 



YOUNG MISS 

YOUNG miss — she gone ter meetin* 
A-lookin' fit ter kill ; 
She dress up so she make a show, 
She'll ketch dem beaus — she will! 

She up en out fo' sun-up, 

En cook, en sweep, en milk; 

She stir roun' some, en dat how come 
Young miss she dress in silk. 

Her han* des soft ez peaches, 

Her cheek des red ez rose ; 
En dat what make dem brier take 

En ketch on ter her cloze. 

De sunbeam run longside er her 

Des lak it run a race, 
De river stop its quollin' 

En try ter steal her face. 
i8i 



YOUNG MISS 

De rabbit say: "She comin' !" 
En hoi' his years up high ; 

De mockin' bird, he hear de word 
En sing ez she go by! 

En when she git in meetin' 

De organ start ter play ; 
De preacher look en shet de book 

En dunno what ter say! 

En yit, she rise fo' sun-up, 
En cook, en sweep, en milk; 

She stir roun' some, en dat how come 
Young miss she dress in silk! 



82 



MISS LIZA 

EVER'WHAR Miss Liza walk 
You'll fin' dem vi'lets blue; 
En goodness knows 
De sweetes' rose — 

Hit go long dat way, too. 

Oh, Miss Liza! 

Sweet ez honeycomb, 
Dar's always some one at de gate 

"Miss Liza, is you home?'* 

Ever' time Miss Liza sing 

You heahs dem mockin' birds; 

Dey up en say: 

"Dat's des de way!" 
En try ter larn de words. 

Oh, Miss Liza! 

Sweet ez honeycomb, 
Dar's always some one at de gate 

"Miss Liza, is you home?" 



THE CHILDREN 

DE good Lawd en de Marster 
Dat make de easy yokes 
Doan love de growed up sinners 
Lak little bits er folks. 

Dey tell him: "Lawd, de chillun 
Des lonesome ez kin be!" 

En den His arms He open, 

En calls 'em: "Come ter Me!" 

He doan ax why dey mother 
Doan rock 'em all ter res' ; 

He call 'em ter de kingdom 
En take 'em to His bre's'. 

En sence dat day de chillun — 
Bekaze He love 'em so. 

Seem des so close to heaven 
Dey doan have fur ter go ! 
184 



THE CHILDREN 

Dey mighty close de city 
Whar sweet dc music rings ; 

Dey see de lights a-shinin' 
En touch de angels' wings. 

En when dey tell de Marster 
Dey lonesome ez kin be, 

Still — still His arms He open 
En call 'em: *'Come ter Me!' 



85 



AT DEVIL'S LAKE 

AT Devil's Lake the days are lone ; 
Night has no star to call her own, 
And winds o'er glooms of cypress moan. 

For there they led Leweny 
With the ribald shout of many; 
They gathered ghostly round him — 
They scourged him and they bound him, 
And fathoms deep they drowned him 
In the Devil's deadly Lake ! 

The mists are crawling o'er the pines, 
Where never moon unclouded shines ; 
Grim ghosts are gliding through the vines. 

For there they led Leweny, 
With the savage shout of many. 
O pale the moon was beaming! 
At his wife's side he lay dreaming; 
But he saw the death-eyes gleaming 
In the Devil's deadly Lake! 
i86 



AT DEVIL S LAKE 

Ye startle at the phantom owl ; 

Ye hear the wolves for hunger howl ; 

But shapes more dread than panthers' prowl ! 

For 'twas there they led Lewen}', 
With the brutal cries of many ; 
From weeping wife and mother ; 
From sister and from brother, 
For the black crime of another — 
To the Devil's deadly Lake! 

"Spare ye," he cried, "the rope, the knife! 
Let justice hold and judge my life ; 
Slay not my children and my wife!" 

But there they slew Leweny, 
With the hellish hate of many ; 
With thongs they scourged and bound him, 
And fathoms deep they drowned him. 
And the grim ghosts wailed around him 
In the Devil's lonely Lake! 



:S7 



A SUMMER LYRIC 

I'M not so much on summer when the lilies wilt away, 
And the rose in windless gardens is a pallid ghost of 
May; 
When the very woods are breathless, and the valley and 

the plain, 
As they glisten seem to listen for the falling of the rain. 

And over twinkling meadows 

Where the dusty daisies throng 
And dream of dewy shadows 

Comes * 'the weary plowman's" song: 

"Gee! Haw, thar! Git along!" 

I'm not so much on summer, though the rivers as they 
run 

With winsome, windy ripples seem to catch and cool the 
sun ; 

And toss their shining dewdrops where the green banks 
droop and dream. 

And tempt the thirsting thrushes where the scarlet ber- 
ries gleam. 

1 88 



A SUMMER LYRIC 

While far across the meadows 

Where the dusty daisies throng — 

Low-listening for the shadows, 

Comes that "weary plowman's" song: 
"Gee! Haw, thar! Git along!" 

But O the glad September, when the wind is in the 

pines 
And the gusty groves are sweetened by the swaying 

muscadines ! 
Where the red fox leaves his cover, and the winding of 

the horn, 
Like a love song to a lover, makes the melody of morn ! 

Then, o'er the ringing meadows. 
Moves the merry, cheery throng. 

In the gray of chilly shadows, 
And we never miss that song — 
"Gee! Haw, thar! Git along!" 



89 



TIGER LILIES 

TO love her still my will is — 
My ruin and my rest. 
(She weareth tiger lilies — 
Tiger lilies on her breast.) 

She deems not love a jew^el, 
Nor cares if love be blest ; 

The infinitely cruel ! 

(Tiger lilies on her breast.) 

A song she makes of sighing . 

Ho! lovers, east and west, — 
She smiles where Love lies dying. 

(Tiger lilies on her breast.) 



ic^o 



MORNING FIRES FOR MARY 

THIS here war's a cruel sight — 
Turns your life contrary ; 
(Think I'll stay at home an' light 
Mornin' fires fer Mary ! ) 

Think o' marchin' day an' night — 

Sick, an' sad, an' weary! 
(Think I'll stay at home an' light 

Mornin' fires fer Mary ! ) 

'Course, the country's cause is right. 

But — I'm stationary! 
Ef they kilt me, who would light 

Mornin' fires fer Mary? 

Three cheers fer the boys that fight! 

War is too contrary 
Fer a man they raised ter light 

Mornin' fires fer Mary ! 



[91 



THE VETERAN'S DREAM 

SETTIN' down by Kennesaw, 
Got to thinkin' on the days 
Of the formin' an' the stormin' 
Of the ranks along the ways. 
June sun all the land wuz warmin', 
But I seen the war-fires blaze ! 

Settin' down by Kennesaw, 
Seen the boys in battle fall ; 

Skies — they thundered, an' I wondered, 
Sence they had no clouds at all ! 

In some sperrit land I'd blundered, — 
Heard the ghostly captains call. 

Seen the boys that wore the gray 
Chargni' on the ranks of blue ; 

Dashin' — clashin' — an' the flashin', 
Of the bright swords, drippin' dew. 

Heard the cannon balls a-crashin' — 
Makin' deadly pathways through. 
192 



THE veteran's DREAM 

Then the scene wuz changed : The blue 
With the gray stood — side by side ; 

An' one flag come into view — 
(Thar wuz bullet holes to hide, 

An' a missin' star or two ; 

But — the boys marched side by side!) 

Side by side, they marched away 

At a sudden bugle-call ; 
No more blue an' no more gray I- — 

Jest one flag to wave for all ! 
Marched into a brighter day, 

Answerin' to that bugle-call! 

Which wuz right, an' which wuz wrong — 
Didn't matter: Ranks looked thin. 

But they marched — true hearts an' strong — 
Other fights for them to win . . 

I'd been dreamin' purty long, 
But — I'm in the war ag'in! 



13 193 



L 



IN THY NEW YEAR 

I 
ORD God, in Thy New Year 
Ilccd Thou our song and prayer; 



Thy world, O Lord, is sweet 
With flowery prints of feet 
Of children, who for rest 
Climb to the mother's breast. 
But oft the mother weeps 
Where in the rose-strewn deeps 
Love with the children sleeps. 

Spare them life's little while 
Ere they make heaven smile. 

II 
Lord God, in Thy New Year 
Heed Thou our song and prayer: 

As fledged birds leave the nest. 
So from the mother's breast 
Wander the children sweet: — 
Sharp thorns are at their feet, 
194 



IN THY NEW YEAR 

Shed from life's starless skies 
Blindness falls on their eyes. 
Lead them through darkest night, 
Lord, to Thy light— Thy light! 
Shield them life's little while 
Ere they make heaven smile. 

Ill 
Lord God, in Thy New Year 
Heed Thou our song and prayer: 

Which is the way to tread 
Heavenward above our dead ? 
Which the true way that leads 
Starward from stormy creeds ? 
Lo ! we are wrapped in night ; 
Unbind more stars of light! 
Arch in Thy heaven again 
Rainbows of hope to men ! 
Lead us through darkest night. 
Lord, to Thy light— Thy light! 
This is our song and prayer, 
Lord, in Thine own New Year 

^95 



WITH APRIL VIOLETS 



I HAD rather bring you riches — the gold I dream 
for you : 
But — take these April violets I reaped in fields of dew. 
I weep that Fortune flies me : for winter winds blow 

cold — 
But God gave some the violets, and God gave some the 
gold. 



I had rather bring you riches; for Life's fair table 

spread 
Is mocked when Poverty must pray over a crust of 

bread ; 
When the sweetest love of life must starve, or beggared 

palms must hold 
To hearts that hate the violets and lock from Love the 

gold. 

196 



WITH APRIL VIOLETS 

I had rather bring you riches — to lure with golden art 
The longing from Love's eyes, dear, the hunger from 

Love's heart; 
What grace that for the breast of Love Life's violets I 

twine ? 
They win not worldly welcomes like raiment silken-fine. 

And you should be a queen, and I — thankful to see 
you so. 

But the fool is in the palace, and Love's own unshel- 
tered go. 

Yet, take these April violets — all that my life can hold — 

And coin them with thy kisses, dear, to treasuries of 
gold! 



97 



HIS "FAVOR'' 

AIN'T he like his mammy? 
Favor 'bout de eyes: 
Calls ter mind his daddy, 
Settin' up so wise ! 

Favor ever'body, 

Till ain't a favor lef ; 
But I tell you who he favor mos' : 

His own, sweet, purty se'f ! 

Cryin', looks like grandpa — 
Wrinkles make him kin ; 

But tell me who he favor 

When he laughs de dimples in! 

Done favor ever'body. 

Till ain't a favor lef ; 
But I tell you who he favor mos* : 

His own, sweet, purty se'f! 



198 



A WINTER NIGHT 

PILE on the logs ! the bright flames start 
And up the roaring chimney race ; 
How grateful should we be, sweetheart, 
For just this little fireplace ! 

I said to-day that I was poor. 

And poor in some things I may be, 

But there's a shelter — who needs more? 
And your bright eyes to shine for me. 

Draw near, and sum our blessings, sweet ; 

While we are housed and clothed and fed 
The bleak winds hound from street to street 

Souls that share not life's daily bread. 

While we, safe harbored from the storm, 
Have all our happy hearts desire, 

There's many a weak and wounded form 
Bends o'er a hearth without a fire. 
199 



A WINTER NIGHT 

Thank God for home ! and if a knock 
Sounds at the door this icy night, 

Oh, let us hasten to unlock 

And bring a brother to the light ! 

It was for this God's gifts were lent — 
To light the way for those that roam ; 

It was for this that Christ was sent — 
To shelter those that had no home! 



THE END 



200 



\o 



'hU 



